#I can't think of anything clever for November | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rose-tinted-juls · 8 months ago

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i literally wrote this in november and left it in my drafts why am i so stupid? anyway. life is busy when you're in your final year of uni that i can tell now but re-reading this chap of ma&thp gave me the long desired feeling of normalcy, so thank you, mackie dear <3

1. THE AIRPORT SCENE I'M SOBBING. the "oh my god is that charles leclerc" was so perfect there even if it's so simple god i love chris. "charles leclerc wants you, could have stopped there" OMG if he said that to me i would literally die on spot. good thing he never will

2. CHRIS BROUGHT CHARLES FLOWERS 😭 AN ACTUAL BOUQUET 😭😭 "just because" 😭 i honestly can't. just simply can't.

3. "anything you want to know, i came tonight with my life story ready." - "her dad'll like that a lot." so simple yet so perfect again. i love charles' interactions with her family.

4. also i just love how close chris and her dad is. like. i 'm just so soft rn

5. when charles didn't say no to the wine bc he doesn't want to offend Cindy and then keeping Chris frim saying anything about him not actually liking wine, i LOVE how real he is. if this ain't me anytime i'm a guest at someone's

6. SHUT UP THE SCENE WHERE BILL ASKS CHARLES ABOUT WHAT HE LIKES MOST ABOUT CHRIS 😭😭😭 his answer is just too much for my little heart. "...how lucky i am to have her in my life." JUST SHUT UP. i literally can't take it (+ "now that i'm properly embarrassed for the rest of my life" lmao love that line)

7. cindy and charles looking through the photo albums, soooo lovely so cute so soft, i want this

8. oh WAIT that paragraph about the childhood photos and the protective parent act that charles wonders about. WAIT. that's such a good paragraph put in such a clever way, i love it. "you can't be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom" + "he should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. to show them to chris, just so that she isn't allowed to hurt him." I'M SCREAMING WHY IS IT SO GOOD

9. "[charles] is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he's been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. the night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapter of her life that predate him is something he isn't going to take for granted." i mean. just these lines. they melted me. i'm just a puddle. a crying mess. why is he so sweet 😭 why do you have to make him so sweet, mack 😭

10. i love charles and chase's conversation about racing stuff. i just love it. also how charles pays attention to shen chris falls asleep so that he can tell her later on when she'll ask, that is just pure sweetness over there. but the whole conversation about car racing is just perfect. and when charles just goes for it, "taking a shot in the dark", asking what drafting is, i just felt so proud lmao i would never be able to ask that question i'm so bad team social anxiety

11. this following conversation: "promise you won't get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today. at least wait until i'm there to witness it." - "i can always outrun you, they say you only have tk be faster than the other guy." - "you wouldn't let me get eaten by a bear." - "well, i might." - "wouldn't." - "would." I WANT THIS. I NEED THIS. WHEN IS IT MY TURN. i'm just such a sucker for this type of couple's banter

12. charles getting lost during his run is just so funny, but also when he's thinking about how nice it is to not worry about anyone watching him. "here it's just him, just charles. there's nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special." poor baby i can't even imagine the life he has to live in this aspect. this paragraph was perfect to remind me how deep down he's just a human being like anyone else which i (and so many of us) tend to forget bc he's like a literal god and like idk. this just hit me deep in my chest.

13. "he's not french. monégasque, and very proud." this whole part is just *chefs kiss* omg i love chris.

14. THAT PART WITH CHARLES AND THE "DO YOU WANT ME TO BE JEALOUS?" AND THE "SHAME, I WAS GOING TO PUT ON A SHOW." OMG JEALOUS!CHARLES IS BE SOMETHING I'D DIE TO SEE especially in this universe

15. "her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs." AND "even the eax dhe plays with the ribnon on the bouquets she hold-something so small and trivial, it all captivates him." AND MOST OF ALL THE "he finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. there's something magnetic about her, an irresistible urhe to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. it's all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction. the changing colours of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the hesrtbeat of a conversation, a light in every roo.. his perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, jt's so clear it becomes cloudy. every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can't let go of." OKAY POET GO OFF. MACK YOU ACTUAL GODDESS OF WORDS I'M IN SUCH AWE OF YOU. SUCH A GORGEOUS PART. SO SO SO PERFECT. brb gonna go sob for a while

16. "may your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever." why is this line so genuinely perfect? like this punch-in-the-chest and make-your-mind-spin kind of perfect.

17. charles worrying about chris' speech 😭😭 (i mean same here but he's just so soft and so smitten and so lovely) but like "you know that you're the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?" i'm actually sobbing now 😭 and the "he's smart enough to know when it's time to just dance with his girlfriend." where are the boys/men like this in real life 😭😭

18. the "she opens her fucking email. he's in love with her, and she's opening her fucking email while telling him it's not possible." hits SO HARD. an actual punch in the gut. so good.

19. and this deserves its own point: "there's nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. not when he's just ran face-first into a brick wall off i love you." awh charles you're in love with her 😭😭😭 and you finally realised it yourself 😭😭 i genuinely have tears in my eyes. actual tears. i'm.... wow.

oh my lovely lovely mackie, you true inspiration and goddess. this chapter brought me so much joy, more than you can imagine (i mean not like all the previous ones didn't do the same but this was just a whole new level of that). thank you. i wish i could tell you this in person just so you could see how sincerely i mean it, and that i could give you a big hug to express my overwhelming appreciation for you. love you loads

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—07. Homegrown —word count: 15.8k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... I don't really have much to say lol... just that I love this chapter and it got a little out of hand. I hope you love it like I do!

Chris takes a personal day at work on the Thursday Charles gets into Georgia. She wants to make sure she’s the one picking him up from the airport, doesn’t want to spend a single second longer than she needs to without seeing him, hugging him, kissing him.

His flight lands at 10:15, but by the time he gets through customs, baggage, and calls Chris three times after getting lost in the Atlanta airport, it’s 11:30. She finally finds him outside the Maynard Terminal, backpack slung over his shoulders, suitcase next to him. He looks so perfectly like a boyfriend, she thinks. “I can see you,” she says. “Do you see my car?”

“No,” he laughs, and it pours from the car speakers like sweet honey. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, stay put, then. I’m coming to you.” She manages to make her way across two lanes to be right on the curb, and then he spots her, his whole expression taking shape when their eyes lock. She rolls her window down as he approaches, and slots the car into park. “Oh my god,” she giggles. “Is that Charles Leclerc?”

He rolls his eyes. “Open the trunk?”

“Charles Leclerc wants me to open the trunk?” She says, pushing the button on her door-panel to pop the hatch open.

“Charles Leclerc wants you,” he says, hoisting his suitcase up into the back of the car, tossing his backpack there, too. “Could have stopped there,” he chuckles, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. She blushes, a cheek-aching smile still on her face. He slams the trunk shut and makes his way around the car, opening the passenger door. “Hi, pretty girl,” he properly greets her. “What’s this?” He asks.

Sitting there, on the passenger seat, is a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, white roses, and white carnations for passion, new romance, and luck. Filler greens and red estelles for encouragement. Manilla and sheer white tissue paper wrap the flowers, a dark red ribbon tied into a bow around the stems. Next to it, is a matching envelope with his name scribbled in purple pen. Inside the envelope is a white greeting card with “just because” printed in simple, black lettering, a handwritten note from Chris on the inside.

Chris smiles. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” He asks, the hint of a giggle in his tone. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Chris shrugs, watches him carefully pick up the flowers and the card and climb into the car where he further examines them. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “I had to go with Hannah to the florist this morning.”

“No, it’s so cool. Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before.”

Chris frowns. “Never?”

“I mean,” he shrugs, “my mum once, but that doesn’t count,” and then he starts to open the envelope, but Chris stops him.

“No, please,” she says, her hand covering his. “I can’t watch you read it, I’ll die.”

He laughs, “you’re so cute.”

Her face stays straight and solemn. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” he sets the flowers and the card down securely between his feet. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.”

Chris can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. God, she feels like such a child. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Okay,” she giggles. “You’re going to kiss me, now.”

His lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It’s like they hadn’t been apart at all, the way their mouths perfectly fit together. His hand finds her cheek, thumb moving carefully over her skin, letting her deepen the kiss. They let themselves just be for a few moments, to let everything else fade away and cling onto their perfect moment. “Seriously,” he says when they pull apart, and then he gives her another quick peck. “Thank you,” and then another on her forehead. “I missed you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she nods. “Hungry. Very hungry. How are you?”

“Hungry, also.”

“How hungry?”

“Very.”

Chris nods, kisses him again, just because she can. Because she couldn’t for so many days. “I know a place, but it’s a surprise.”

It’s a twenty-three minute drive to Pig’n’Chik Barbeque in Northern Atlanta. Charles is visibly apprehensive of the little red building and the parking lot filled with the aroma of southern barbeque, but he keeps his commentary to himself. Chris knows it’s probably a little overkill, the hole-in-the wall joint being even a little too gimmicky for her taste, but that’s the whole point. The place is supposed to be gimmicky, while also being good. Chris used to love this place as a little kid—Bill would always take the kids there whenever they’d gone to the city. It was his favorite place then, and so it will always hold a place in her heart.

Charles holds open the door, a bell attached to it announcing their entrance, eliciting a greeting from the staff, a “Hey, guys! How’re you doing?”

“Good, thank you,” Chris smiles, moving through the restaurant towards the diner-style bar at the back. She holds her hand out behind her for Charles, turns to tell him: “You might not have been able to get a seat at your sushi bar, but I can get us up at the Pig’n’Chik bar,” she laughs.

Charles matches her laugh, a playful eye roll and the shake of his head before they’re sitting down on the red leather barstools.

She’s telling him before they even have the menus in front of them what they need to order; fried pickles to split, lemonade to drink because it’s not pig’n’chik without their lemonade. She’s going to order the shrimp and grits and he absolutely needs to have the catfish.

When he cocks his head at the idea of… eating… catfish… she tells him he’s not allowed to look it up, and that he also has to trust her. “It’s the best thing on the menu,” she says.

Charles quirks a brow. “Then why aren’t you eating it?”

“Because the hushpuppies will kill me,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t eat them, either.” The grease that comes along with eating a deep-fried batter ball isn’t good for anyone’s system, especially not someone who isn’t used to this kind of food. The last thing she needs this weekend is a boyfriend who can’t be more than three feet from a bathroom.

It’s an hour and a half, at least, until they’re pulling into what Chris affectionately calls her “driveway.” Charles thinks that anyone else would more likely call it a dirt road. A trail, even, that turns into a driveway after the trees clear and you can actually see the house.

“This is all yours?” he asks, swears her yard is the size of his apartment lobby.

She nods. “I mean, it’s mostly trees, but, yeah.”

He’s taken on a tour of the old-style farmhouse, which, by the way, is so incredibly her you’d think the place was built for her—lots of beadboard, all this delicate woodworking that a FaceTime call has never been able to do justice. Thick glass windows with the frame painted over, no central heating or cooling, a couple window air conditioners and old radiators to boot. The most like her, though, is the back porch. It’s screened in, has a creek to the floor that the dusty, antique rugs can only attempt to muffle. There’s two couches that couldn’t match less, but still somehow go with each other, both cozy with throw pillows and cushions and warmth. The whole place smells like her, sounds like her, feels like her. He’s immediately comfortable.

Chris and Charles spend most of their afternoon trying to plan out their evening. Starting tomorrow morning, their weekend is on a strict schedule, so they want to make the most of their free time tonight before their dinner with her family. They want to make the most of it so badly that they can’t decide on anything at all, and end up falling asleep on her living room couch.

When Chris’ alarm goes off—the one she’d set the first time she caught herself dozing off, realizing Charles was already passed out next to her—they grumpily get ready to head over to her parents’ house. It’s then, while Charles navigates around Chris and the countertop of her makeup, that she tells him all about Thanksgiving, about her mom pointing out the hickey, and she offers up a warning. “They’re going to pretend they hate you for like, half an hour,” she tells him. “Pretend you’re intimidated.”

“And…” Charles begins, running gelled fingers through his hair. “What if they actually don’t like me?”

“My mom likes everyone,” she says, gestures away at his words. “And my Dad, well, you’ve already met him. He liked you good enough then.”

“He liked me enough to talk to me for ten minutes,” Charles counters. “That doesn’t mean he liked me enough to date his daughter.”

Chris smiles in the mirror, carefully applying her lipstick. “Lucky for you,” she says, “he doesn’t get a say.”

– – –

His leg bounces for the entirety of the ten-minute drive, so much so that at a stop light he can feel how much he shakes the car. Despite that, he doesn’t realize just how nervous he is until they’re in the driveway—which is just as long and trail-like as Chris’ is. Their house is bigger, though. Much bigger.

His palms are clammy, and he wipes them off on his jeans—should he have worn something nicer than jeans? Jeans are really all he brought besides clothes for the wedding, for sleeping, for working out in. Jeans are fine. Jeans are good. Their driveway is a dirt road, jeans are good.

“Relax,” Chris says, trying (and failing) to hold back a little chuckle. “It’s not that serious.” He rolls his eyes because it quite literally is that serious. You only get one chance to make a first impression on your girlfriend’s parents, and when your girlfriend is as close to their family as Chris is, it’s an impression you’d really rather not screw the fuck up. “And the longer we sit here, the longer they’re going to watch from the kitchen window.”

With a deep breath, he climbs out of the car, walks up the rest of the drive and onto the porch a pace behind Chris. She raises her hand to knock twice, turning the doorknob and letting herself in before anyone could even attempt to answer the knock. He steps in behind her, into a wallpapered entryway with a tall table full of keys and pictures and discarded mail on one side, and a wooden bench with tan throw pillows on the other side. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” She shouts into the house.

A woman’s voice calls back, “in the kitchen! Dad’s upstairs in the office.”

Chris slips off her shoes and Charles follows suit, slotting them under the wooden bench next to hers. He hadn’t worn a coat, but she ducks into a hall closet to hang hers up. He’d worn a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’d already sweat through the t-shirt.

He thinks he could smell his way to the kitchen, the way the scent of the home cooked dinner fills the entire house. He follows behind Chris like a lost puppy into the kitchen, and as soon as she turns the corner and walks through the archway, she’s being greeted by her mom, wrapped into an oven-mitt clad hug. He gets a perfect view of her mom, gaze slotted over Chris’ shoulder. She’s not so scary, he thinks. He can recognize more than one of Chris’ features on her face—in the way she smiles and the shape of her eyes, too. That’s where her smile comes from, and her eyes, too.

Over her shoulder, Chris’ mom opens her eyes, waves a bangle-bracelet clad, oven-mitt covered hand in his direction. Charles steps fully into the kitchen, determined to make a good first impression. “And I take it this,” her mom says, pulling away from the hug, “is the charming gentleman you’ve been telling me nothing about?”

Chris laughs, catching his eyes when she says: “Yes, Mom, this is Charles. Charles, this is my mom, Cindy.”

“Hi,” Charles offers a handshake. His friends had reminded him—briefed him, basically—that Americans are fond of their personal space, and he figures if Chris is right, and they are going to be playing the intimidation game with him, there’s no chance he’s getting anything more than a—

“Oh, please,” Cindy laughs, swatting his hand out of the way. “We hug in this family,” and he’s already being pulled in. His surprised eyes catch Chris’, who looks back at him with an oh, my God. I’m so sorry, glance, which makes him chuckle. If this is what pretending not to like him looks like, he’d hate to see what actually liking him is all about. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he hums, finally pulling away from the hug. “I have heard so much about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Cindy laughs pointedly at Chris. “But what I have heard has all been good.”

“Well, anything you want to know, I came tonight with my life story ready.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Cindy nods. “Her dad’ll like that a lot.”

“Mama, where’s Beans?” Chris asks, and before he knows it he’s following her out into the backyard for the introduction that he knows is actually the most important. As they stepped onto the lush, green grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. In the corner of the yard, the aforementioned Beans, a friendly Golden Retriever, lays beneath the growing shade of an old oak tree. The fur around his snout is a distinguished shade of white, and he looks up with wise, kind eyes as Chris approaches, his tail shaking slowly at her presence.

“Here he is, my Beanie Baby,” Chris says with affectionate enthusiasm, crouching down to stroke the dog’s ears. He follows suit, squatting down beside her. “Beanie, this is Charles.”

Charles approaches cautiously, fully aware of just how important this introduction was. He extends his hand, letting Beans sniff it gently. The elderly Golden accepts the gesture, the pace of his tail wagging picking up speed. “Hey Beans,” Charles said softly, voice warm. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Beans responds with a content sigh, his old eyes conveying the years of love and happiness he’s had in this very yard. He leans into Charles’ touch, relishing in the attention.

Chris laughs, “I think he likes you. He’s a bit slower these days, but he’s still the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.”

After much convincing, and the promise (and fulfillment) of several treat bribes, they’re able to convince Beans to come back into the house, where he curls up on his bed with his milkbones.

Chris’ dad, who joins everyone else downstairs ten minutes later, pops into the dining room while Chris and Charles are setting the table. Chris looks up in the direction of his footsteps with that radiant smile, warm eyes, like always. “Hi, Dad,” she says, her voice drenched in affection.

“Mums,” the man smiles softly, greeting her with open arms and a gentle hug.

“You remember Charles,” she says, and he steps forward, leaving the silverware settings on the tablecloth. Charles extends his hand first, is met with Bill’s firm, heavy handshake.

“Mr. Elliott, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His voice is stiff, polite, but there’s still a touch of earnestness that betrays his nerves. “Thank you for having me, I’ve heard a lot about you and your family.”

“Now, son, if I’m bein’ completely honest with you. I never thought I was gonna see you again after Texas. I wasn’t feelin’ you out the way I should’a been, if you know what I mean?”

Charles nods, even though he thinks he picked up about seventy-five percent of what was said. “Yes, sir.” He thinks he’d probably answer any question thrown his way, if it meant when he left tonight it was in her parents’ good graces.

Her parents, Bill especially, do maintain their intimidating presence for just as long as Chris says they will. Sat at the dinner table with all of them, next to Chris and across from Cindy and Bill, he can’t help but feel the weight of the situation as they all eat.

“So, Charles,” Bill says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine. They’re all nursing glasses of wine, even Charles, who despite never having been particularly fond of the drink, was too scared to say no when Cindy offered. He’d glared daggers at Chris to keep her from speaking up. “Monaco, right?”

Charles nods. “That’s right.”

“A racecar driver from the rich and famous’ playground,” Bill continued. His voice is low and inquisitive. “I’m sure you can see why I might be a lil’...” he chuckles, “worried about you.”

Next to him, Chris cocks her head defensively, leans forward in her seat. “What are you trying to imply, Dad?” Charles unconsciously moves his hand to her lower back in an attempt to reassure her silently. He knows why Bill’s asking questions like this, he knows the reputation certain aspects of his life carry with them. It does put a butterfly or two in his stomach that she’s so eager to jump to his defense, though.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just quite the party lifestyle you live, isn’t it, Charles?”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Charles laughs awkwardly. Chris takes a big sip of her wine, leans back in her chair again. He moves his hand from her back to her leg, where she interlocks it with her own under the table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll go out with my friends when I’m in town, or we have something to celebrate, but… I’ve honestly become more of a home person these last years.”

Bill raises his brows, takes another bite of his food. “Really?” Charles nods. “That must be difficult, son, all the traveling you do. Alotta’ people in alotta’ cities. How d’ya handle that?”

Charles smiles, fully aware that Bill is just attempting to gauge his character. “It can be lonely at times, but I'm committed to a steady relationship. I like to think I’ve learned to balance my racing career and my personal life.”

“A steady relationship with our daughter.”

Chris squeezes his hand, he squeezes back, smiles softly. “A steady, committed relationship with your daughter, yes.”

Cindy takes a sip of her wine, smiles into the red liquid. She seems satisfied. Bill, not so much. “And what is it that you like most about her?” He asks.

“Dad,” Chris laughs pointedly at her father, a hint of disbelief in the action. “That’s enough.”

“Sorry, Charles,” Cindy interrupts with an awkward chuckle, an attempt to keep the peace before Chris lunges over the table at her dad. Charles isn’t offended by the question, so he wonders if maybe Cindy is apologizing to Chris more than she is to Charles. “He doesn’t mean to come off so investigative. Chris is just our baby, everyone has always looked out for her.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he nods, takes a bite of food. “As for the question nobody wants you to ask me,” he looks to Bill, remnants of his food still in his mouth. He speaks with the napkin over his lips. “It’s hard to even find a place to start with that, right? I mean, she…” he glances to Chris, finds that she’s already listening to him intently. He smiles, “you are an incredible person,” and he has to look away, because if he keeps going while staring into her brown eyes, he’s going to be as red as a tomato, completely and utterly smitten. “If you really want me to pick something, I guess I would say her kindness, and I’m sure you’re both familiar enough with her heart that I don’t need to ramble on about how lucky I am to have her in my life.”

Chris sinks in her seat, finishes off what’s left of her wine. “Well, now that I’m properly embarrassed for the rest of my life.”

Cindy laughs. “Oh, Chrissy, I haven’t even gotten the baby pictures out yet.” Chris turns to bury herself in Charles’ arm. He can feel how warm her face is through the fabric of his sweatshirt, and it makes him laugh.

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles.

Charles’ ears perk up. “There’s baby pictures?”

Chris nods against his arm. “She’s a scrapbooker.”

He’s so boggled by the way that they can just switch up after that, the way that they stop trying to intimidate him and welcome him with open arms. He thinks that his Mum could never, that she knows within the first thirty seconds of meeting someone if she likes them or not. When it comes to Pascale Leclerc, you’re forever categorized by her first impression. He didn’t tell Chris that, because he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was in her sweats and messy-hair in Abu Dhabi.

After the meal had been cleaned up, the four of them sat comfortably in the living room of Chris’ childhood home. Their home is so nice, so warm and welcoming. He wonders if it’s always been such a comfortable place.

Chris is sprawled out on the corner-seat of the sectional couch, Beans taking up the seat next to her, his head in her lap while she pets him mindlessly. Charles sits on the floor, back to the corner cushion, legs outstretched in front of him under the coffee table. Bill is in the recliner in the corner, working his way through a newspaper crossword puzzle, half-dozing off every ten minutes.

Cindy carries a cardboard box down the stairs, sets it down on the coffee table in the middle of the family room. It’s full to the brim with worn, leather-bound scrapbooks, with Christyn Claire neatly written on the side of the box. She sits down on the floor next to him. Carefully, she pulls one out and gently sets it on the table, brushing the dust off the black leather cover.

Charles watches as she flips open the pages, each one filled with their own vibrant photos, handwritten notes, and little trinkets that tell a story of young Chris. Charles can’t help the smile on his face when he sees the images of her in every stage of life, from a curious toddler with messy, curly pigtails to a teenager with the same smile he can’t get enough of.

Cindy’s eyes sparkle with pride, and she has an anecdote for each and every photo. He’s captivated by it, not just the snapshots, but also the obvious love Cindy carries for her daughter.

“This is Chrissy on the first day of school,” She explained, pointing to a picture of a young girl with a backpack almost as big as herself. “She was so excited to learn, has always been eager to take on new challenges.” Charles nods, hangs onto every word she says. “She’s always been a quick learner, even then.”

Cindy continues to flip through the pages, her and Charles silently sharing in knowing smiles at photos they both know Chris would find particularly embarrassing, making sure she doesn’t catch onto their shared moment from her seat on the couch. Cindy reveals photos from family vacations, birthdays, and school events. Her tales of Chris’ adventures—combined with Chris’ personal renditions added in—make for quite a delightful, and humorous, evening.

“Ah, this one,” Cindy chuckles as she turns the page, revealing a picture of a grinning Chris covered head to toe in colorful paint. “We had an art day in the backyard, and Chrissy decided she'd rather paint herself than the paper.”

He laughed along, felt like he was growing more and more connected to Chris and her family with every shared memory. Part of him wonders if this is still a part of the protective parent act. If it is, it’s definitely doing its job. You can’t be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom, or helping wash Dad’s car, or taking a nap at the beach on a mermaid towel. He should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. To show them to Chris, just so that she isn’t allowed to hurt him.

“She’s always had a big heart,” Cindy said, her smile warm. “Her friends were like extended family,” she continues, pointing out a picture of Chris and several other little children. She points to a blonde, “You’ve met Hannah, right?”

“We’re going there, next, Ma,” Chris interjects.

“Oh, well. This is her when she was five. I think Chris invited her to spend the night for weeks at a time.”

Charles nods, everything he knows about her, the way that she makes friends with anyone she interacts with, it all tracks, can all be seen in these pictures. He thinks that he could sit on the floor all night and go through every single picture in every single scrapbook, and still wouldn’t have enough, wouldn’t know enough about her.

– – –

They leave the Elliott’s house a little after nine, and the air outside is cooler, now, the day fully transitioned into night. Charles sits in the passenger seat, eyeing Chris’ ability to perfectly maintain a speed two under the limit, and the way that she flipped her brights on everytime another car wasn’t cruising down the road. It seemed like this entire town was half-covered in wooded areas, so he supposes it’s better to keep an eye out for any wild animals. The warmth of the evening experience with her parents still radiates through him, but their conversation is now focused on their next destination; Chase and Hannah’s house.

Chris, in the driver’s seat, is more animated than ever. She was preparing him carefully for the meeting, the anticipation of how her best friend and brother would perceive him hung in the air. She explained on the drive from the airport earlier that day that she’d “promised Hannah she would meet you before the wedding.”

As they rolled to a stop at a red light, Charles cast a quick glance over to her, feeling the weight of her guidance. “What should I know about them? Any advice on how to impress them?”

“Gosh,” she’d said, “I don’t know. Hannah’s easy. Chase is weird, but, just talk about cars or something. He really likes, um,” she pauses. “He races with you… from Australia, I think.”

Charles mulled over the comment, committing it to memory. There’s only one Australian he can think of racing against. “Daniel?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Daniel Ricciardo. He really likes him.”

Charles absorbs the information, realizing that Daniel would serve as an excellent conversation starter about racing. The light turns green, and she checks the intersection for a comically long amount of time before proceeding. He does everything he can not to laugh, and is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he’s been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. The night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapters of her life that predate him is something he isn’t going to take for granted.

– – –

They arrive at Chase and Hannah’s house for a relatively relaxed night in, greeted by the warm glow of a bonfire crackling in the backyard. The air was filled with the smokey scent of burning wood, and the soft lull of a country song pouring from a speaker.

“Hi!” Hannah calls before the couple is even halfway through the back gate. “Hi, Hi, Hi, oh my gosh!” she squeals, hurrying over to the gate to greet them. “It’s about fucking time,” she adds, pulling Chris into a tight hug. You’d think it was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, but Charles knew they were together just that morning. “And you,” the blonde continues, “must be Charles. Unlike everyone else around here, I’ve actually heard a lot about you,” she laughs.

He laughs too, accepts her open-arms for a hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“William Chase,” Hannah calls to the man standing over the fire, a stoker stick in one hand, a glass beer bottle in the other. His head shoots up from the embers when he’s called. He holds his beer up as a welcoming gesture, but Hannah isn’t satisfied. “Get over here!”

He meets them halfway through the yard, in a part that’s unlit by either the house lights or the glow of the fire. “Hey,” Chase says with a relaxed smile, pulling Chris into a side hug, and then approaching Charles with an outstretched hand. “You must be Charles,” he says, the two exchanging a laid-back handshake before pulling each other into a bro-hug. “It’s good to meet you, man. You want a beer or something?”

“I can get it myself,” Charles assures, “just tell me where they are.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hannah scoffs, “You’re a guest,” she insists, and it is already halfway up the steps of the back porch. “You want one, too, Chris?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Chris smiles, her hand finding his in the space between their bodies, interlocking their fingers and pulling him over to the fire Chase has already returned to.

Chris and Charles find a cozy spot on the porch swing that sits in front of the firepit, a shared bench that seemed to be the ideal medium between two chairs and sitting on top of each other, perfect for family introductions. They sit side by side, thighs brushing against each other, his arm around her nursing his beer. Charles keeps the swing moving with his feet, but Chris has one leg crossed over the other, the base of her beer bottle leaving a darkened ring of condensation on her jeans everytime she picks it up.

“You want another one, Chris?” Chase asks, shaking his empty beer bottle by its neck when he heads back inside for another round, and per Hannah’s request, to check on Reid.

“I’m okay,” Chris smiles. She’s turned fully sideways, now, her back resting against his shoulder, both legs off the ground and onto the other end of the bench. “I’m driving home,” and then she cranes her neck to look at him. “Do you want another?”

“No,” he says, because he’s pretty sure he can already feel her dozing off while they swing, is almost certain it’s going to end up being him driving back to her place tonight. “Thank you, though,” and then he kisses the top of her head, pulls his arm out from under her body weight to wrap around her front lazily. She adjusts to his adjustment, leans into him and finds a comfortable curve in his chest.

Even among the scent of wood and fresh cut grass and smoke, he’s found himself in the perfect position to smell her hair without even trying. He thinks he’s finally nailed her shampoo, coconut and rose, he’s almost sure of it.

“Mate, Chris was telling me you’re a Daniel Ricciardo fan?” Charles asks, looking for a way to break the ice into a more active conversation, utilizing the very few tools he has at his disposal. Chase and Hannah seem both way lower-stress than Bill and Cindy did, but he'd still like to leave tonight knowing he made a good impression. Or, at least leave knowing he tried his hardest to make one.

“Yeah, man. We actually started racing at COTA in 2020, and Renault and Daniel did this thing with our team, gave me a little good-luck message and stuff. It was real cool. I’ve been a fan of him since.”

Surprised, and trying to find common ground, Charles asks: “Do you follow Formula One?”

“You know, I tried after the whole Daniel thing, but,” he shrugs nonchalantly, takes another swig of his beer and leans back in his seat. “Honestly, all respect, but there’s just nothing quite like the roar of a stock car at Daytona for me. It’s like thunder, man.”

Charles nodded, an eager grin on his face. He doesn’t know much about NASCAR, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t study up on it during the flight over. “The sound of those engines at full throttle must be crazy. It’s V8’s, right?”

“Yeah, V8. What are y’all running? Isn’t it hybrids?”

“Yes,” Charles laughs. “They’re crazy with the engineering. Basically, you have a turbo V6 combined with energy recovery systems… it all helps keep us lightweight.”

“That’s another thing that blows my mind, how light your cars are! I know you pull crazy downforce, but I swear it’s a totally different game on an oval, dude. Our cars are like, thirty-three hundo.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. He knew they were heavier, but that’s like… it’s more than double, he thinks, or has to be close to it “Oh, my God!” He laughs, taking another sip of his beer. Chris chuckles, too—he feels it in his chest. He also feels the nonsensical shapes and patterns that she traces over his sweatshirt sleeve while he talks, the way she seems completely lost in toying with the fabric.

“I know, you guys got fuckin’ feathers compared to us!” Chase gins, joining in on the laughter.

Charles leans forwards a bit, and when he does it, Chris adjusts her positioning. She’s somehow managed to slide gracefully down until she was curled up on the wooden bench, resting on her side with her head on his tights. She’d found a makeshift pillow in his lap, and he couldn’t mind it less. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he says, checking his watch so that when Chris asks him later tonight ‘when did I fall asleep?’ he can give her a proper answer. “We are all about precision, crazy aero packages. It’s not just about speed and downforce, it has to be managed so perfectly.”

“There ain’t no time for precision when you’re wheel-to-wheel at Talladega. It’s all about survival. We’re out there swapping paint and shit. Bumping and drafting are all a part of the game.”

“How crazy is that?” He questions, even though he doesn’t have more than an educated guess as to what drafting is. “The way the air affects your car when you’re always that close?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t notice it all that much because I’m so used to it, but yeah. We’re always pushing the limits, especially in the high-banked ovals. Drafting is both your best friend and your worst enemy.”

“Drafting, mate,” he peruses, taking a shot in the dark when he says: “that’s like getting the slipstream, no?”

“Exactly, yeah,” Chase nods. “All drag reduction shit.”

“It’s crazy, when we’re wheel-to-wheel, we’ll do about anything not to make contact”

“It’s ‘cause your shit weighs ten pounds,” Chase laughs. “It’ll fly away if there’s any contact.”

They go on like that for some time, comparing technicalities. There are few things Charles appreciates more in life than actually getting to sit down and talk racing with someone—true, technical, perfectionist racing. There’s no investigating what the problem with this year’s car is, or what he hopes happens next season. It’s just… how they work. How different formula racing is from stock cars. He feels like this is something he can actually talk about, a conversation he knows he can contribute knowledge to.

“Riveting stuff, boys, really,” Hannah finally interjects, sitting down into her camping chair. Charles hadn’t even noticed she’d left, but here she was popping the bottle cap off another beer, taking a big swig. “You put Chris to sleep and I’m on my fucking way.”

Charles stills, his movements suddenly gentler as he tries to crane his neck to see her face. “She’s asleep?” He asks, half-whispered.

Hannah nods, and Chase chuckles, “Dude, she’s been out cold for like half an hour.”

He smiles down at her, shaking his head, and then checks his watch again. 10:36pm, she didn’t even make it an hour and a half, poor girl. Charles brushes her hair out of her face and carries on with the conversation. His mind is completely absent to the fact that his fingers continue their exploration of her hair, a natural masterpiece of unruly waves. Each strand has its own rhythm, defying any form of order. The curls become even more pronounced as they cascade toward the nape of her neck, dancing freely with the erratic breeze.

At the root of her bangs, there’s a stubborn cowlick, and one side of her face-framing cut has a mind of its own, constantly threatening to tumble into her eyes. Amidst all that delightful chaos, small, intricate braids intermingle with the curls, held together with tiny brown elastics. His touch is reverent as he selects one, playfully twisting it around his finger while he speaks.

With painstaking care, he slides the elastic from the braid, and doesn't miss a beat in conversation with Hannah and Chase as he carefully unravels it. Their words dance in the air around him, and by the time he becomes cognizant of his actions, he’s on the last little braid.

When it’s time to turn in for the evening, when the conversations are more yawns than actual questions, Charles wakes Chris up softly. He runs his hand up and down her upper arm slowly, squeezes her elbow to coax the sleep from her heavy eyes. “Baby,” he hums softly.

Chris stirs with a groan, sits up and stares back at him with empty eyes, like she has no clue what year it is. He bites back a smile at the state of her, raises his brows and waits for her to say something, to scold him grumpily for waking her up. Chris Elliott is a force to be reckoned with when she’s woken up, and it’s something you only have to witness once to be scared of ever seeing again. She doesn’t scold, though.

Instead, a soft smile pulls on the corner of her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. She’s already leaning against the far armrest of the swing, curling up into the corner like she’s going to go back to sleep. She probably will, it’s been far too easy to wake her up. His hand finds her knee, thumb rubbing circles along the denim fabric. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nods, but her eyes are already closed again. Chase is already dousing the fire with water. Hannah’s already inside cleaning up. Charles opts to leave her there, sweet and peaceful, while he collects her things from inside.

It’s the first time he’s been in the house, and it's just as ambient as the backyard is. The warm glow of the dimmed lights accentuate the charm of their modern-farmhouse decor; wooden shelves bathed in the soft radiance, full of potted succulents, framed photographs, and small artworks that offer a glimpse into their lives. Large, strategically placed windows allowed for a gentle cascade of moonlight to slow, making the entire place feel calm and serene.

Chris has been wearing a pair of Hannah’s slippers since she went inside for the first time, so the first thing he looks for is her shoes. He finds them in the entryway, just outside the door, and finds her keys on a small table there, too. Her phone is on the kitchen counter, the purple silicone case practically glowing against the black granite countertops and pristine white cabinetry. In the living room, he notices a little figure lying on the couch—Reid, he assumes, lies nestled under a Cars blanket, a scene of pure childhood innocence set against the backdrop of grown-up sophistication. The entire room excludes warmth, thanks to an oversized gray sofa and a plush rug, all enhanced by the dull LCD of the quiet television and subtle nighttime lighting. Behind a throw pillow on the same couch, he finally uncovers her purse, carefully slipping it out so as to not disturb the sleeping child.

“It’s not worth the fight sometimes,” Hannah explains, but Charles didn’t need one. He remembers the age of begging to have a sleepover on the living room couch, to stay out past his bedtime and watch shows on the big television. It was the highlight of his weekends, sometimes.

“He’s adorable,” Charles says. “I love the blanket.”

Hannah chuckles softly, crossing her arms over each other to hug her small frame. “It’s his favorite movie,” she shrugs. “Wants to be just like his dad.”

He puts all of her things in the car before he even attempts at getting her into the car. Everything is neatly put into a place, her address typed into his GPS by Hannah and plugged into the aux on the radio, and she still sleeps on the swing.

His humor buoyed by the absurdity of the situation, Charles decided to start with the slippers. He gently slid them off her feet, one by one, and handed them over to Chase, who watched on with the bemusement of an audience at a comedy show. With a soft, nearly conspiratorial tone, Charles whispers: “Chris, baby,” planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

In response, she produces a mumbling symphony of incoherent sounds. “That’s not French, mon amour,” he chides playfully, prompting a breathy laugh from her lips. His aim is to keep her here, to prolong that delicate state of semi-sleep where she tattered between slumber and annoyance. “Let’s go home, yes?” he inquired.

Chris, in her hazy state, offered a subtle nod. Charles grinned, heart painfully warm, and said, “Could you help me out?”

In response, she obligingly wraps her arms around his neck, and he effortlessly hoists her into his arms, carrying her in a bridal-style embrace. He guides her to the waiting car with gentle steps, Chase strolling alongside them to open the car door. She stirs when he sets her in the seat, fastening her seatbelt.

Chase shuts the door and the two of them exchange a classic, old-as-time bro-handshake-goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of both their meeting today and their future introductions all weekend long.

It’s not until they’re at her house, the soft purr of the engine falling silent as he properly parked in the driveway, that she’s really awake. Her sleepy eyes flutter open with the automatic cab lights.

He moves swiftly, circling the car quickly to open the door for her. As she grumpily emerges from the car, he gives her an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, killer.” he playfully whispers, his hands working against her shoulders. She meets him with a death-glare he could never possibly be afraid of.

Chuckling, he plucks her phone from the passenger seat, locks the car before following her up the driveway.

The journey inside concludes shortly in her room. Chris has an early morning ahead, and a late night, too. Charles marvels at the resilience; doesn’t know how she’ll manage tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. As she settles in under the comforter, he can’t help but watch her for a moment, all sweet and sleepy and beautiful, like always.

Soon enough, the exhaustion creeps up on him, too, and he finally succumbs to sleep’s gentle embrace, entwined with the woman he finds himself cherishing more with what feels like each passing breath.

– – –

He wakes up when the soft chimes of her alarm break through the morning darkness. The dim glow of the clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 am, and it was clear that daylight has yet to pierce the veil of a southern winter outside.

He can’t help but appreciate her attempts to tiptoe through her morning routine. The effort is commendable, really, but the old, creaky wooden floors and the protesting door dram betray her intentions. He doesn’t mind, though—How could he? Any moment with her, even early morning ones where she bustles around the space, is better than a moment without.

Lying in the cozy bed—which, by the way, her bed is so fucking comfortable, he allows himself to fully wake up, knows that her morning rituals would be far more entertaining than any dream he could have cocooned in sleep.

His sleepy gaze watches her as she moves through the bedroom gracefully, her face illuminated by the soft glow of dawn creeping in from the curtains. He smiles at the little sounds and routines that make up her life, the ones he never gets to see, to savor. Watching her move about is a special kind of beauty, one that makes him feel lucky, insanely so, to experience a life with her in it.

Leaving the comfort of the bed, he ventures out into the kitchen. He knew she had an early start, a long day away from him, and he was determined to steal every extra moment they could share.

She’s finishing her lunch, packing it into her backpack when he sneaks up behind her, snaking his arms around her middle and hugging her from behind. “Hi,” she laughs, turning around in his arms to face him properly.

He gives her a kiss and her lips taste like her morning coffee. He marvels at the ease with which she can make someone’s day—make his day.

She grins, and there is a special kind of mischief in her eyes when she playfully warns him: “Promise you won’t get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today,” she says, and then, because she can’t help but add it, “At least wait until I’m there to witness it.”

With a chuckle, he teases, “I can always outrun you, they say you only have to be faster than the other guy.”

Her laughter bubbles out, filling the room, and his chest, with warmth. “You wouldn’t let me get eaten by a bear,” she replies.

He pauses for a minute, then playfully concedes, “Well, I might.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

– – –

After she left work, he found himself helpless in the war against sleep. What was the point if she wasn’t around to keep him up? If nothing was around to keep him up? It was almost eight o’clock before he finally got up for the day, feeling refreshed and ready for yet another evening of introductions.

His breakfast consists of a simple serving of toast, nothing anywhere near extravagant, but enough to stave off his hunger. Not to mention, he’d rather not make a mess in her house with the very first thing he does all day.

After breakfast, he heads out for a run, decides he’s going to try and navigate his way around without getting lost. He fails, miserably, because it seems like everywhere he looks has the same landmarks—trees, trees, and more trees. The cool air is invigorating, though, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement keeps his mind clear, gives him a certain appreciation for the fact that he doesn’t have to keep his eyes and ears open for anyone who might be watching him. No, here it’s just him, just Charles. There’s nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special.

Returning home—to her home—he enjoys a shower that washes away the cold sweat of the run. Dressed and ready, he ponders his plans for the rest of his day. It’s hours still until Chris is home and the festivities really kick off.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes, Chase’s name popping up on the Caller ID. Hannah had insisted on him exchanging numbers with both of them the night earlier. Just in case Chris decides to fuck off to another country again without telling us, she’d said.

He answers, listens to Chase’s offer to join in on a round of 9 holes with him and Bill, considers it for only a moment, and accepts enthusiastically. He��s in the passenger seat of Chase’s truck within the half-hour.

“Survived the dragon, I see?” Chase greets Charles with a smile, clearly still amused over the previous night’s encounter.

Charles chuckles. “Just barely.”

– – –

The day was pristine for golf, with a brilliant blue sky overhead and a gentle breeze. Charles has played at some pretty impressive courses around the world, but something about this one felt special. The green really wasn’t all the lush, and the views weren’t outstandingly picturesque, but. But, there was something that felt so special about it.

Bill, the most experienced of them, begins the round with an expertly executed swing that has Charles chuckling under his breath. His ball soars through the air, landing with pinpoint accuracy in the fairway. Chase follows with a powerful drive that seems to only gain momentum as it sails. It gracefully lands not far from Bill’s.

Charles takes his stance, feels a bit like a circus clown amidst his partners, but steadies himself nonetheless. He draws the club back, manages a swing with a surprising degree of finesse. The ball leaps from the tee and manages an astonishingly straight shot that lands in a… respectable position. He’s not too far off Bill and Chase.

Charles would never call himself a golfer, but he’s grateful for Chase and Bill’s attitude—the way they are constantly pretending he’s better than he is, blaming any mistakes (he has a beach full of sand in his shoes from all the traps) on the fact he’s rented his clubs from the course.

As they stroll down the lush, sunlit fairway on one of the holes, Charles decides he’s brave enough to start a conversation, rather than just participate in one. He turns to Chase as he addresses the only topic he can think of. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh? You’re feeling good?”

Chase grinned, golf club slung casually over his shoulder. “Dude, more than anything. I’ve been trying to marry Hannah for a long time. I’m lucky, you know.”

Bill nodded, “Y’all are all but by now.”

“Anything specific you’re excited for?” Charles questions, can’t help but be curious about the details. “Or just a big ball of excited?”

Chase chuckles. “I’m really looking forward to the ceremony. The moment I see her walking down the aisle, it’s gonna be somethin’ else.”

Charles smiles. He wasn’t expecting such a romantic answer, not given what he’s experienced from Chase up to this point. His answer feels more like something you tell your closest friends, not your little sister’s boyfriend you’d just met for the first time the night before. “How about the holiday? Any special plans?”

Chase’s eyes lit up into a laugh. “Ah, the honeymoon. Yeah, we’re going somewhere… sometime. I don’t know, it’s not at the top of our list of things to get done.”

“All I know, Son,” Bill, whose been quiet for what feels like some time now, offers up some wisdom, “Tomorrow’s gonna be real overwhelmin’, but remember it’s your day. Savor all of it.”

Chase nods in agreement, “Don’t worry, Pops,” he chuckles, pats Bill on the shoulder, “I’ll savor it all.”

“And if you get nervous,” Charles laughs, “feel free to let it mess you up out here,” he says, gesturing to the fairway. The whole trio shares a laugh, but Charles seriously wouldn’t mind if the other two suddenly forgot how to golf.

With Chase excusing himself to meet up with Hannah at the rehearsal dinner venue, Charles is left with just Bill, the pair heading up to the country club’s restaurant for a late lunch. The ambiance inside is refined, and they sit next to big floor-to-ceiling windows that offer views of the manicured greens and vast wooded area they’re situated inside.

As they settle into their table, Charles takes a sip of his water, wiping the condensation from his hand on the side of his pants. He can feel the weight of the conversation that’s likely to follow—there’s no Cindy or Chris around to keep him in check like there was last night.

Bill, cutting right to the chase, speaks in a casual tone. “So, Charles, how’re you finding our little corner of Georgia? I reckon it’s awful different from Monaco.”

Charles smiled, appreciating the comfortability of his voice. Maybe Chris was right, he was getting himself worked up yesterday over nothing. “It’s different, for sure,” he laughs. “Home is home, but there is something about the calmness here, the open space. It’s refreshing. And meeting everyone, it’s been great.”

Bill, who’s been nothing but stern in his expression for the entire time Charles has known him, seems to soften, even if just slightly. “I gotta admit, I was a lil’bit… cautious when I first learned about you and Chris. Fathers, y’know, we worry.”

“I can imagine,” Charles nods. He understands. Of course he understands. “You have my word, I have pure intents. Chris means a lot to me.”

Bill seems fully contemplative now, his usual sternness fully replaced when he looks back at Charles. “She’s real happy with you from what I can see, and her brother tells me you treat her real well. That’s the kinda stuff that matters to me.”

His chest feels stupidly warm at the remark. If Chris is half as happy as he is, they’ve really got something here. Something real. Scary real. “I care about her deeply, Sir, and I want her to be happy, too.”

Bill chuckles under his breath, shakes his head softly. “You’re not seventeen, son. You can call me Bill.”

“I care a lot about your daughter, Bill.” It’s an easy thing to do, he thinks. There can’t be a person in this world that knows her and doesn’t care for her. Not when everything about her makes him believe in luck, in something otherworldly—Gods or guardian angels or invisible strings.

“See?” Bill questions, picking around what’s left on his plate with his fork. “We’re already buddies.”

– – –

Bill drops Charles off just before Chris gets home from work. He’s not in the house for ten minutes, is still moving around the kitchen searching for a glass to fill with water when the door swings open. Chris enters the kitchen with Reid, half a dozen things in her arms and a familiar four-year-old in tow. “Hey,” she greets, lifting her bags onto the counter next to him, setting down all of her belongings.

“Hi,” he greets, hand finding a familiar space on her lower back, pulling her closer to him, to lean down and give her a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

“Long… and chaotic,” she sighs, forcing a weary smile onto her lips. Charles frowns. Searching her eyes for elaboration, she just shrugs. “Reid, say hi to Charles,” she introduces. “Charles, this is my little tornado, my nephew, Reid.”

Reid looks up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “Can I call you Chuck?”

Charles laughs. “No, you can call him Charles,” Chris answers on his behalf, before he gets the chance to tell the kid to call him whatever he wants.

Reid rolls his eyes. “Hi, Charles,” he huffs. “Auntie Chris says you’re gonna help me get ready.”

Charles smiles warmly. “That’s what I hear. It’s quite a mission to accomplish, do you think you are up for it?”

Reid nodded enthusiastically. “Totally. I’m almost five.”

Chris chuckles, and Charles’ eyes shoot over to her when she does. Hearing her laugh isn’t enough, he needs to see it, to share in it. “Good luck with the tie,” she tells him. Charles winks at Chris, grins down at the kid in front of him. “Reid, you like Cars, right?”

Reid’s eyes go wide, his head snapping over to look at Chris, who matches his expression with a smile on her face. He turns back to face Charles, “How did you know that?”

“So, it’s true?”

Reid nods apprehensively. “I love Cars. My Dad is in Cars 3, y’know? He’s got, like, a awesome race car.”

Charles feigned surprise, “No way! That’s like being a superhero.” He leans down conspiratorially, speaks quietly, just to Reid. “Do you know Lightning McQueen?”

Reid’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he launched into a passionate monologue about the Cars movies, the story, and the characters—paying a special interest to Chase’s automotive-self in the animated world. Charles listens with genuine interest while Chris quietly prepares a snack for the boy.

He gets ready while Reid eats, moves around Chris in the bathroom. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, using her entire arm to move her stuff off one side of the sink vanity. “I’m taking up your side,” she continues, pulling her curling iron out of her hair, carefully cradling the steaming strands. Charles smiles. His side. He kisses her softly, then— mindful of her unfinished makeup and hair. She smiles out of it, gives him another quick peck, “what was that for?”

He shrugs, reaching for his hair gel, “Just because.”

– – –

They get to Dahlonega right at five o’clock, thanks in massive part to Charles’ ability to comfortably drive above the speed limit, and in small part to Chris’ ability to finish her makeup while Charles does a poor job at avoiding potholes.

Every event this weekend takes place at the same place—a vineyard about thirty (if you speed) minutes from Chris’ house, but it’s nothing like what he would usually think of as a quote-en-quote vineyard. It’s more of a… barn put in the middle of a field, but. It’s beautiful nonetheless.

“How do I look?” Chris asks as they walk up the long drive from the parking lot to the barn. She runs her hands over the thighs of her jeans, straightening them out.

“Do a spin,” Charles says, and she does. “Hot,” he nods, smiles. Chris rolls her eyes. “Always hot.”

Hannah is running around with a woman wearing a nametag—the wedding planner, he assumes—like a chicken with its head cut off when they get there. Reid bolts away from them as soon as Chase is in his eyeline, chatting with his groomsmen around the bar. Charles trails behind Chris, hand interlocked with hers, as she makes her way over to a frazzled Hannah.

She greets them with a smile, swiping her hair off her shoulders and opening her arms for hugs. “You look beautiful,” Charles comments, kisses either of her cheeks.

“Oh,” She laughs. “This is new.”

Charles laughs, pulling away from the hug, “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s fun,” she says, looking to Chris. “You should’ve dated someone French a long time ago.”

“He’s not French.”

“But y—”

Chris cuts her off. “Monégasque,” she continues. Charles smiles meekly. “And very proud.”

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the venue as the wedding rehearsal began. Charles found himself sitting in the second row, behind both Chase’s family and with the rest of the partners of the bridal party.

They’re orchestrated by the meticulous woman with a name tag from earlier, carefully moved through the motions of the ceremony tomorrow. Charles watches with quiet amusement as they navigate each and every step with precision. The officiant guided them through the script, the words blending into a hum that surrounded the ceremony space.

He partakes in the bland small talk with the other partners—how beautiful, how exciting, how sweet—all the stuff that random strangers with no present connections have to talk about. Charles can't help but glance at Chris intermittently, catching her eye and exchanging silent conversations that only they understand. She’s just so pretty up there, her brown curls cascading off her shoulders while she holds two mock-up bouquets of flowers. She bounces in place, practically, obviously half as tired and bored with it all as he is.

As the run-throughs progress, he can feel her restlessness like it’s his own. Her wide eyes betray her thoughts when, without words she tells him, this is so boring.

He chuckles under his breath, meeting her gaze with the minute raise of his brows, an unspoken agreement passing between them. So boring.

The repetition of the steps continues, though, each run-through blending together into the next. Charles and Chris share more glances, continue to communicate the same sentiment of impatience to a point of amusement. In the stolen moments, he finds solace in the connection, a reminder that even the most orchestrated events can’t stifle their shared sense of humor.

As the rehearsal finally drew to a close, the sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden hue over the gathering. The group dispersed, heading towards the dinner that awaited them.

When Charles catches up to Chris, she’s talking with the best man—Ryan, who the wedding planner kept asking to take this a bit more seriously. He seems nice enough, brother-y enough. Charles thinks he probably has a few good stories about Chris, even more about Chase.

“Everyone always thought we had a thing going,” Chris tells him after the introduction has finished, while the two of them wait at the bar for their drinks.

His brows raise, leaning back off the bar to scan the room for the guy. “Do you want me to be jealous?” He asks, lets his hand rest on the small of her back, thumb moving smoothly against the fabric of her top.

“No,” she says, but the smile on her lips tells him she’d be entertained by the sight of a jealous version of him. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else this weekend.”

He nods, picking up the drink that’s set down in front of him/ “Well, did you?” He asks, taking a swig of the dark liquor.

“Did I what?” Chris asks, moving her drink closer to her, stirring it with a little black straw.

“Did you guys date?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “Never.”

Charles nods. “Shame, I was going to put on a show.”

The welcome party kicks into full swing after the satisfying sit-down meal. Laughter and chatter fill the rustic barn, the air buzzing with the lively energy of the gathering, of the weekend. Charles, having eaten the entirety of his dinner earlier, finds himself following Chris as she seamlessly navigates the crowd.

The burger truck, stationed at the edge of the venue, offered a tempting array of late-night treats. The scene of grilled meat wafted through the air, enticing those who weren’t around for the earlier, intimate dinner.

The barn was alive with the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, the bursts of laughter. It seems like a million people fill the space, a million strangers—a mix of extended family and friends and coworkers and distant relatives and even distant-er friends. For him, all of these faces are unfamiliar, and he relies on Chris like a lifeline to guide him through most of the interactions.

She effortlessly leads the way, introducing him with a warmth that mirrors her nature of being. She moves through the place like she owned it, with a grace that seems to come naturally to her, connecting with friends and family alike. Everyone seems thrilled to see her, absolutely beside themselves. He understands them, even if he doesn’t know them, and observes with quiet admiration her ability to make everyone feel at ease.

She seems to flourish in social settings, her personality shining brightly. She greets old friends with hugs, shares jokes with cousins, compliments grandparents’ outfits, and introduces him to each and every one of them, punctuates every interaction with her infectious laughter.

He’s always felt like he’s more of a one-on-one guy, that his connections are better made independently rather than in groups. Chris, though, could lead a crowd anywhere with this unwavering confidence. She doesn’t make a single misstep all night, navigating the whole evening perfectly, makes an evening he’d spent the majority of outside his comfort zone anything but unsettling. With her, his words feel valued, important, intelligent. He’s content to be her partner in social settings longer than anyone should be.

It’s long past midnight when they finally get back to her house, the fatigue of the day well-settled on their skin, casting a convincing sleeping spell that made the prospect of a comfortable bed a welcomed one.

The house is silent, the hush of the night hugging them as they reach the bedroom, the weariness of their bones palpable. Anything but falling into the comforter seems like quite the ambitious endeavor.

The comfort of the sheets cradles them as they sink into the mattress, a shared haven offering respite from the busy weekend. “Next time I come here,” Charles yawns, the effort of the evening present in his voice, “we are doing nothing.”

She must be more drained, he thinks, she’d worked almost a whole day before this, but contently, she responds with a gentle hum, snuggled up close to him. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Perfect.” The simplicity of doing nothing seems like the perfect plan, a promise of unhurried moments and the luxury of just being together. He wants more of that. He wants more of her.

– – –

He wakes up for the first time that morning, if you can really call it waking up, to the shift of the bed as she climbs out of it. He doesn’t check the clock, doesn’t even hear more than the creak of the floor before he’s back asleep. He wakes up for the second time, and you still probably can’t call it that, to her standing over him, fingers running through his hair. She gives him a kiss and comments on something he can’t hear through sleep.

The third time he wakes up that morning, it’s to the ringing of his phone on the bedside table. Her name is on the screen, a photo of her grinning in front of a statue in Monaco and holding a thumbs-up. 8:34, his phone reads. The sun is shining in through the opening in the curtains.

She’d forgotten the steamer on the living room coffee table when one of the other bridesmaids picked her up two hours earlier. He says he’ll bring it, asks if the girls want coffee, swears he remembers her order. She texts him the other three girls’ orders. Within the hour, he’s riding with the wedding planner on a golf cart from the parking lot to the bridal suite with four long-winded coffees in one hand and a steamer in the other.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the bridal suite, but it wasn’t what he found. The chaos hangs in the air like a sweet perfume. He weaves between makeup artists, hair stylists, and bridesmaids to find Chris, talking with Hannah and a makeup artist about what’s about to be painted onto the bride-to-be’s face, fulfilling her maid-of-honor duties.

Chris looks up quickly to scan the room, eyes landing on him and immediately returning to the conversation at hand before doing a double-take, a heavy sigh leaving her lips when she recognizes him and the objects he carries.

“Hey,” she greets, takes the steamer from his hand and kisses him. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” and she kisses him again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, pulls a coffee out of the cardboard cup holder and hands it to her. “Your hot dirty chai with one shot of espresso, oat milk, and salted caramel.”

“A man after my heart,” she says, taking a sip of the drink. He winks—anything more and he’d blush bright red—and continues reading the orders off.

“Brown sugar oat milk latte with blonde espresso for Hannah,” he says, pulling it out and handing it to the blonde and pulling out the next one. “This is the… Iced matcha latte with soy milk and strawberry cold foam, and the…” he holds up the cupholder, one drink left in it, “Caramel brûlée latte.”

The groom’s house—which is where he’s affectionately sent to after the coffee delivery—is a direct contrast to the bridal suite. College football plays on the television, the cheers and groans of the game providing a lively soundtrack to the prelude of the wedding. The girls were all half-ready, but the guys are still shoveling breakfast foods into their mouths on the leather sofa.

Noon arrives, and with it the collective decision that it was time to actually start getting ready for the wedding. Chase and his groomsmen needed to be ready for pictures at three, which meant that Charles and the rest of the bridesmaid’s boyfriends needed to be ready to be anywhere but the groom’s house at three.

Between the laughter and the beers and the arguing over the best way to iron a shirt, there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t even bother to look who it is, assumes it’s a relative of some sort. When Ryan, the never-had-a-thing, you-don’t-need-to-be-jealous Best Man has a hand on his shoulder, telling him “Chris is outside, she wants to talk to you,” he meets the guy with furrowed brows.

He finds her just where Ryan said she was, pacing outside on the concrete patio, ready head-to-toe for the wedding procession. He can’t help but be struck by her beauty, the way the delicate fabric of her dress accentuates her figure, the way the color complimented the glow of her skin perfectly. Her hair is pulled back off her face, revealing the curve of her neck, her subtle makeup highlighting her features.

He feels like he’s seen her a million times by now, in a million different ways, but there was something almost ethereal… angelic about her in this moment. The nerves in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders only add to the charm, make her feel more real, more human.

He’s never looked at her and thought she wasn’t beautiful, but there are moments where he’s particularly struck by her allure. This is one of them.

As soon as she lays eyes on him, her words rush out in a torrent. No hello, no pleasantries, just— “I’m freaking out, Charles. This speech… I’m just. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he promises. He’s heard Chris’ maid-of-honor speech probably a dozen times by now, and she’s a different level of nervous every time. This might be the most nervous he’s seen her about it, though. “Can you… can you listen to it, please?”

He nods, his gaze steadying her shaky one. “Of course, let’s hear it.”

She unfolds the tiny, half-crumpled piece of paper out and delves into her speech. He focuses on her words, the genuine affection and admiration for Hannah present in each and every syllable. When she finishes, she meets his eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety in hers.

“Well?” She asked, her lip caught between her teeth.

Charles smiles. “It’s amazing. You are going to do great.”

“Are you sure? Because the part where I talk about Colorado—”

Charles shakes his head, puts his hands on her shoulders. “It’s perfect,” he says, gives her a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

She sighs, relief visibly washing away the tension. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, “You would still do great. But I’m here anytime you need it.” She gives him a quick hug, and he can feel the gratitude seeping through the squeeze, so he makes it last just that moment longer. He just, he gets such a surge of pride that he gets to call her his, that he’s lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. “Go knock ‘em dead,” he laughs.

When three o’clock finally does roll around, the wedding party separates to head off for pictures, and Charles, along with the other significant others, joins the convoy heading down to the ceremony space. The excitement among the group was palpable, everyone connected in some way to Hannah and Chase’s love story, ready to witness and be a part of their union.

The ceremony starts at four, and hell if he can’t stop catching Chris’ eyes the entire time. He doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed a wedding quite like he’s enjoying this one. Chase and Hannah are lovely, and the officiant’s words resonate with sincerity, but he’s less attuned to the details of the ceremony itself and more absorbed in the captivating spectacle that is Chris.

Her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs, and her discrete attempts to wipe away tears, to pretend they aren’t falling, melt his heart entirely. Even the way she plays with the ribbon on the bouquets she holds—something so small and trivial, it all captivates him.

He finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. There’s something magnetic about her, an irresistible urge to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. It’s all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction.

The changing colors of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the heartbeat of a conversation, a light in every room. His perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, it’s so clear it becomes cloudy. Every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can’t let go of.

There’s something so fucking special about her, and he can’t make sense of any of it.

Cocktail hour is at five, and the whole family—everyone at this entire wedding he knows—are off doing ‘golden hour’ pictures. Charles lingers by the bar, stuck to the outskirts like a wallflower.

He’s suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. It’s not often he’s put somewhere completely on his own like this, almost always has someone he can use as a lifeline if he needs to. Everyone here seems to have known eachother forever, and he feels like an intrusion on their camaraderie, worries that if he does manage up the courage to start a conversation with someone, they won’t understand him, or worse—he won’t understand them.

His social battery is just… it’s drained. It’s been a long couple days of mingling with strangers, of trying to impress everyone. He’s ready to just curl up somewhere with Chris and enjoy the limited time they do get to spend together—alone—this weekend.

Maybe then, with some more fucking time, he could sort out all his nonsensical thoughts. Make some sense of his own feelings.

At the reception, he’s seated at the family table with Bill, Cindy, and Reid. Chandler is there, too, but she and her girlfriend Lex seem about as interested in him as they are the dinner menu. They give him a passing greeting, an introduction, if you can call it that, but content to leave it at that.

They’re only a few feet away from the head table, where Chase, Hannah, and the bridal party are sat. So close, but when you’re as drained as he is, when you’ve been prim and perfectly proper for more hours than you can count, just want to be with the one person around who you don’t need to impress… Chris’ nameplate might as well be a quarter of the way around the world.

There isn’t some big announcement or introduction for the bridal party, they just filter in after the conclusion of pictures with the rest of the family. Chris is one of the last to filter in, and finds that the rest of the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are all settled in their seats. Chris doesn’t head for her seat. Instead, she makes a bee-line for her family table, for Charles, who is scrolling through his phone and nursing what she thinks is Chase’s signature drink.

She sneaks up on him, but he isn’t startled by her arms when they wrap over his shoulders. “Hi,” she greets, leaning over to kiss him. It doesn’t take her but a second to feel how tense he is—it’s in his shoulders, in his kiss, in the way he just keeps spinning the liquid around his glass instead of drinking it. Most of all, it’s in the way she doesn’t get even a hello back, just a focus smile and a kiss. Her brows furrow in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just tired. It has been a busy couple of days.”

“I know,” she nods in agreement. “I was thinking, we should get super drunk tonight, skip brunch tomorrow, and then do nothing all day. What do you think?”

He laughs, and she feels the vibrations in her hands. “Deal,” he says, holding out his hand to shake on it right as the DJ comes over the microphone. Ladies and Gentleman, Chris’ eyes go wide, practically death-dropping into a squat so quickly she nearly loses her balance in her heels. Charles laughs, but she doesn’t miss his hand reaching out to steady her. If I can direct your attention to the barn door, let’s all give a warm welcome to the reason we’re all here tonight. I’m pleased to introduce for the very first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Elliott! Even from her squatted position, she still claps and cheers for Chase and Hannah.

As the clapping dies down, the instrumental of their first dance song transitions in. She shifts on her feet, from one heel to the other, and thinks about how graceful she would have to be to attempt to slip her shoes off in her current position. When she looks to Charles, she’s met with the clearest what-the-heck-are-you-doing look she’s ever been on the receiving end of, and a nod that all but picks her up and puts her in his lap itself. His arms slip around her waist lazily, like it’s where they’re supposed to belong, like a magnet pulling itself to the fridge.

As their first dance song starts, as Chase and Hannah sway around the dance floor as husband and wife, Charles places a soft kiss into her exposed shoulder. The warmth of his lips sends a chill up her spine. “Are you cold?” He whispers, and she shakes her head even though she’s been chilly since she put the dress on that morning—who the heck chooses one-shoulder bridesmaid dresses for their outdoor wedding in December? He runs his hands up and down her arms to warm her up with the friction. “You can have my jacket if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Okay.” Another kiss, and then he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know.”

After the first dance, Hannah and Chase give a short welcome speech, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with them, for making their day so perfect. And then, it’s time to eat.

She offers to pull over a chair and eat with him, and then offers again silently after Bill makes a joke about how we won’t bite him. She doesn’t like to see him like this, so tired, so drained. “I’m good,” he says, “I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, but her return to the head table is hesitant, and she keeps an eye on him the entire meal.

– – –

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Chris, and for those of you who do, you probably knew this was coming,” Chris laughs nervously, microphone in sweaty hands. She can’t believe she has to follow Ryan’s speech. He had the whole crowd laughing until they couldn’t breathe. “I’m not one for public speaking, which I know you all find very funny considering my career choice, but when your best friend since the oh-so tender age of seven is getting married, you throw caution to the wind.”

She looks at Charles, but has to look away quickly. Just imagine me in my underwear, he’d told her before she got up here. She can’t do that. She can’t look at Hannah or Chase, either, though, or else she’ll burst into tears. So, she just looks at the piece of paper in her hand.

“So, let’s talk about Hannah. We’ve been through it all together, from the back of a Sunday school class at Grace Haven where two little girls made their first friend, to hiding from customers in the kitchen of the Pool Room listening to Mr. Gordon tell us about his ‘shine days. We weathered the storms of adolescence, rocked the awkward phase, and somehow managed to make it out on the other side with our sanity intact—well, mostly,” the room chuckles. Hannah laughs, and Chris thinks that maybe she can look at her—she can’t, can already feel the tears welling, the frog in the back of her throat.

“But,” she cracks, “It’s not about the trials we faced in high school, it’s about the triumph that is happening right now. Chase and Hannah, standing—sitting—here, about to embark on a new chapter of their lives.” Chris turns to the next page of her notes, hand shaky when she does it. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows getting here. Life threw us some curveballs, as it tends to do. But Hannah, she’s a force of nature. She faces challenges head-on, and with the strength of a thousand warriors.”

Chris’ eyes catch Reid, sitting on Bill’s lap next to Charles. He’s not paying any attention, but what four-year-old would? Instead, he’s swinging his legs back and forth, tapping Charles’ knee with the toe of his shoes everytime. Charles takes turns grabbing one of the attacking feet, his eyes unbreaking from her, before letting Reid wiggle it away, laughing softly at the interaction each time. “My best friend became a mom at nineteen, and there wasn’t much about it that was easy. But, like I always do, I watched her rise to the occasion, and I’ve never been prouder. I work with five-year-olds every day, and as similar as Reid is to Chase, he’s his mother’s son, and I would pay a million dollars to have twenty of him in my classroom. And Chase, you were there through all of it. When things got tough, you didn’t run; you stood by her. You became not just the guy she loved, but the rock she could lean on, the partner she deserved.”

Chris nods, continuing. “Some might say they don’t have the most conventional love story. But what is love if not a journey? One that involves bumps and twists and unexpected turns? Chase and Hannah, you’ve proven that love isn’t just for fairytales; it’s for the real, messy, complicated, and beautiful moments of life.”

Chris looks past Hannah, to Chase. It's just as hard to maintain eye contact with him. Harder, maybe, because he looks like he’s about to cry, too. Chris can count on one hand the amount of times she’s seen her brother cry. “Chase, my big brother,” she laughs through a tear.

“Fuck you, dude,” he says back, through an equally tearful laugh. Hannah’s hand runs in circles on his back.

“You are so lucky to have Hannah. Everyone in this room knows that she has this magical quality about her—this remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. I’ve seen her do it time and time again, watched her sprinkle her own special kind of magic everywhere she goes.”

“Hannah,” she says, turning fully to face her best friend, abandoning the piece of paper she has memorized and replacing it with Hannah’s hand. “You are my confidante, my partner in crime, my source of strength, and my beacon of light. You are the kind of friend who not only stands by people in the good times, but also holds you up when life gets a little bit wobbly,” Chris feels a single tear fall down her cheek, and then another. She sniffles softly. “Thank you for helping me through the wobbles,” she squeaks. “You’ve been my sister as long as I’ve known you, Han, I’m just glad it’s finally official.”

Chris turns back to address the crowd, raising a glass of champagne to two of her favorite people. “To Hannah and Chase. May your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever. Cheers to the messy, the beautiful, and the happily ever after you both so richly deserve.”

Hannah wastes no time enveloping Chris into a bear hug, rocking back and forth on their feet. The lace and tulle from Hannah’s dress scratch against Chris’ arms, but she doesn’t mind. She’s too busy trying not to cry onto the fabric while the rest of the tables clink their glasses to her speech. Chase is next with the hugs, a stupid one that’s stronger than Hannah’s.

“Dude,” he laughs, “you didn’t have to make me cry.”

Chris sniffles. “I love you.”

Chase pauses, squeezes her a little bit tighter. “I love you, too.”

Speeches are followed by the father-daughter and mother-son dances. Chris sneaks back over to the family table during the latter, makes her dad move over into Cindy’s seat so she can sit next to Charles. He has a fresh glass of the same drink from earlier, and is nursing it the same way he did the first one.

“You know,” she says, checking the state of her makeup with her phone’s camera. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace if we’re getting wasted tonight.”

He laughs, the side of his foot bumping against hers under the table. She leans her foot back on the heel of her shoe, toys with the hem of his slacks. “Is that right?” He spins the drink, talks into the bottom of the glass, but she’s not fooled. His ears are red at the simple action.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Let me show you,” and then takes the glass from his hand, downing what’s left without a scowl. It’s dark liquor. She loves the burn.

Chris is like… she reminds him of that battery rabbit. A constant source of energy. She’s practically bouncing off the walls, giddily introducing him to anyone they come across that he doesn’t already know. She’s just so personable, and the buzz she’s gotten from the champagne and the stolen sips of his drinks only make her more lively. She knows everyone here, he’s sure of it, but she could befriend a brick wall if it gave her five minutes.

It’s impossible for even the most sullen people not to feed off her energy—everyone is swallowed up by her laugh, every conversation brightened by her presence. She’s so fun to watch that he wonders if he’s dreamt her up, created a figment of his imagination in the shape of someone just so good. God, she’s good.

They survive the newlywed games and the anniversary dances, even make it all the way to the cake cutting before it becomes an Elliott family party—which, if you didn’t know, is synonymous with a drunken rager. As soon as Hannah swipes a finger full of frosting across Chase’s cheek, it’s game over.

Drinks flow as freely as laughter echoes, and the dance floor is nothing more than a playground for a bunch of drunken idiots. Chris and Hannah, seasoned dance partners, showcase their moves with infectious enthusiasm, dancing the blurry line between elegance and idiocy.

When the music slows, though, she’s always finding her way to him, heavy arms around his neck, his around her waist. If they know the song, they take turns butchering the vocals and giggling until the other person kisses them.

“So, how was my speech?” She asks soberly, swaying along to the tune of some slow song he’s never heard of.

“You made that speech your bitch, baby,” he slurs, even though he has a million and one questions about her speech.

He’d heard it. So many fucking times, he’d heard it, and not once had he heard the ending. He thought he heard the ending—he did hear the ending. It was just different. Shorter. Sweeter. Didn’t put a confused knot in his stomach. Thank you for helping me through my wobbles. A remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. He doesn’t want to entertain them as connected, to live in a world where they’re connected.

“You think so?” She beams. He can’t ask when she smiles like that.

“Yeah,” his tongue feels dry in his mouth—cottony. He’s bothered, and he doesn’t understand why. “It was great, very personal.” He shouldn’t let it bother him. It’s a fucking speech at a wedding for people he barely knows. It shouldn’t bother him, it shouldn’t rot his insides, the concept that two sentences could be in any way related to one another. It shouldn’t bother him, really. It does, though. And he can’t stop himself when he’s half-drunk the way he could if he was sober. “Everything you talked about… it’s all you two, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Hannah’s done a lot for me, y’know. I’m sure we’re like you and Joris, just. I cry more than you.”

“Even the, uh…” he clears his throat. “Even the whole thing about, um…”

“Charles,” she laughs, brows furrowed in a way he thinks only he could perceive.

He sighs. “You know that you’re the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?”

She doesn’t look at him when she nods, or when she smiles, or when she kisses him. “I know,” she mumbles, and it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever said. The easiest lie he’s ever spotted, but it’s even clearer that she doesn’t want him to push on it, so he doesn’t. He’s smart enough to know when it’s time to just dance with his girlfriend.

– – –

They wake up the next morning disgustingly hungover. Like, stare at the white ceiling for twenty minutes talking about how hungover they are and praying they don’t throw up, hungover. Her ceiling is textured, and the pattern repeats every foot-or-so like it’s been stamped on. That’s how hungover he is.

He showers while she makes them prairie oysters, and despite how absolutely horrifying it looks, sounds, and sells, he manages to find enough trust in her to force it down with a grim scowl. Fuck, it’s disgusting. Horrifically so.

They take an uber out to the wedding venue to retrieve Chris’ car, and she gives directions back to the Dawsonville Pool Room with her eyes half closed, sunglasses over her eyes. Everytime he looks at her he thinks she’s turning green.

The owner recognizes her as soon as they’re walking through the door. Charles doesn’t understand a single fucking word the guy says. Chris orders “two Bully Burgers, but I swear to holy Heaven if you put slaw anywhere near my plate you’re gonna see the Devil, Mr. Gordon.”

He responds in something Charles could technically call English, and Chris shakes her head, a smile pulling on her lips. “I’m serious, he’ll back me up,” she says, thumb pointing to him. “He’s not from around here, you’re just another stranger.”

The greasiest, sloppiest, most mediocre burger he’s ever eaten is put in front of him five minutes later, and he feels like a new man after. Still absolutely strung out and exhausted, yes, but like his stomach is content to stay inside his body.

Later that afternoon, when they’re both half asleep on the couch, some stupid sitcom playing as background nose, he’s still thinking about her fucking speech from the night earlier. It’s still bugging him. “Baby?” he mumbles against the skin of her shoulder. He doesn’t even know if she’s awake to answer.

“Hmm?” She hums.

“We do not have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but. You are a very lovable person, I think.” He couldn’t give any specific examples of what makes him so sure of this fact, he honestly couldn’t. But isn’t that proof enough? That just her being is enough to answer the question.

“Babe,” she stretches against him, speaks through a yawn.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about it.” She adjusts, if just slightly, so that it’s easier for her to look at him while they speak. “When everyone has the same complaint, all your old friends and old boyfriends tell you that you’re too much or too little, you realize maybe you’re the crazy one.”

He doesn't like that reasoning. He thinks it’s a load of bullshit, actually. “Why do you think of yourself in this way?”

Chris laughs. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not,” he says, because he knows it’s a lie.

“It is, because I’ve come to terms with it. I accept it.”

He frowns, hates the way she seems so content with this. Like it’s something that is even kind of rational. It’s not, he knows. He pauses, can’t even come up with something to say to her level of absurdity. “I don’t think you should accept that.”

She turns away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, and laughs softly. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“You are not unlovable.” She’s not. She’s not. He knows she’s not. He knows, he knows, because of rain on a pine patio and leaves that change colors. He knows, because if she was unlovable, he wouldn’t love her. And he does, he does love her.

Wait.

“Well, we’ll see. Everyone always sees.”

No, hold on. Wait. His stomach is tangled, flip-flopping and fluttering like every butterfly this side of the Atlantic has suddenly taken up residence in his insides. You don’t love her, you idiot, he thinks. But he does. Fucking… His heart races. He hopes to God, pays to something he’s not sure he believes in that she can’t feel it against his chest. That he can get away with it. “See what?”

She shrugs. “If I knew, nobody would see it,” she laughs. He laughs along, too, but it’s so forced that it sounds like some pre-recorded bit. She’s so casual about all of this that he feels like he needs to pinch himself. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his mind around it. But Chris, she’s comfortable enough with her bull-fucking-shit ‘facts’ that she can pull her phone out and scroll through it while they wrap up the conversation. “And before you ask, ‘What if I don’t see anything?’ like everyone else but Hannah always asks, nothing happens.”

“Nothing happens?”

She opens her fucking email. He’s in love with her, and she’s opening her fucking email while telling him it’s not possible. “You win, I guess.”

“I win you?”

“I mean, I don’t like to consider myself something that can be won,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. His heart is beating so loud he thinks the neighbors can probably hear it. “But for lack of a better word… sure. You win me.”

He nods. There’s nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. Not when he’s just ran face-first into a brick wall of I love you. Fuck. Fuck. He’s totally in love with her. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

last chapter masterlist next chapter

#juliana's fic rec #queen mack <3 #cl16 fic #I'M SOBBING #this is perfection #my fave fanfic #my fanfic commentary #fic: ma&thp

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glassmarcus · 10 months ago

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Tunic: Marcus Bait gone Wrong

*Played in September 2022, Written in November 2022. I will gleefully die on this hill even today. I learned that consumables recharge on death like a month ago, and it just made me hate the game even more. Explain your mechanics you coy bastard!

There's a ton to like about Tunic. It has wonderful environmental story telling, a complex dense world with secrets and shortcuts around every corner, and a charming art style. Its defining gimmick is super clever. The game aims to capture those feelings of being a confused kid playing a cryptic game that can only be navigated using a manual in a foreign language. And I assume it captures it perfectly (never had to do anything like this growing up to be honest). There's very few items to use in this game, but in their place are little pieces of paper. The main object of progression are pages of the in-game manual. This manual is the Heart and Soul of Tunic. It is your map, your exposition, your move list, your tutorial, and your Prima Strategy Guide all in one. Information is explicitly a tool in this game and once you have that knowledge, executing on it is always satisfying. It's like the power was within you the whole time. You know that moment in Super Metroid where you are shown by those aliens how to wall jump and then realize you could have been doing that hours ago? They pretty much turned that into an entire video game. I really dig it. I can also see how it will make subsequent playthroughs far more varied and expedient. Road blocks that you perceived your first time around are later revealed to just be smoke and mirrors. You could have gone straight to that location and gotten that item early if you only knew the true form of the illusion.

Moments where vague plot points and details of the world are revealed just by picking up a page will always stick with me and were truly magical. Tunic is an extremely inventive game and at times had me more captivated than nearly any other title to come out this year. And when you view the 2022 video game roster, and see the savage killers it has to contend with, you can't help but cheer it on. I really wanted to come out of Tunic with it being this surprise favorite I didn't anticipate.

Yea, that didn’t happen

While its world is well crafted (aside from the quarry) and it's gimmick is well executed (aside from the fairies), Tunic fails on a fundamental kinesthetic level. If you know anything about Tunic you probably know it's heavily inspired by Dark Souls and The Legend of Zelda. Probably my 2 favorite video game franchises overall. Tunic is theoretically a hand made present for me. They might as well have sewn my name on the back of it. So I wish I liked it, and am very disappointed that I don't. Now I have so much knowledge of Dark Souls and Zelda that if I start comparing them to this game and pointing out all the things it does right and wrong, we'd be here all day. I had a whole thing written about how this is isometric Dark Souls 2, but way worse. I had a paragraph about the joy of simple top down Zelda combat prepared. But I won't follow through and resist mentioning them for the duration of this write up. I'm not going to go into my perception of what the developers and designers were thinking when they made this either. I will just plainly state the things I hate about it.

The Combat of this game doesn't work. Your swing animations have no weight despite the slow wind up. Every enemy gets knocked back or dodges after 1 or 2 hits. There's no visceral death animation or sound effect to accompany your triumph. The currency you get from kills doesn't have clear value in the beginning of the game and has no value near the end. The camera constantly obscures information about encounters and makes spacing hard to make out. The camera also wildly swings around while locked on to a large enemy, disorienting the fuck out of you. There is ONE weapon and it's not particularly good (You can’t have both long recovery frames AND minuscule hit box range, PICK ONE). Half of the magic spells are garbage. The other half are still magic, thus are limited in use. The Enemies are aggressive and won't leave you alone until you kill them. You also move at an unbearably sluggish stride. Which wouldn’t be huge deal if enemies along the routes you take weren’t such a horrid chore to deal with. Hit boxes just feel wrong sometimes. The parry is a double tap. The game pretty much expects you to be holding the triggers constantly during encounters. The dodge goes too far. There is no satisfaction during combat, after combat, no meaningful reward for combat, and no reasonable way to avoid combat. NOTHING about this was executed correctly. The magic whip mitigates a lot of the issues by removing spacing and movement from the equation and giving a good animation. But like I said, you only get a few uses of this so you can't rely on it being a play style. This is a game full of fighting and they forgot to make the fights fun. You end up killing the same enemies with the same weapon and the same combat loop without any meaningful variation. It's BORING.

If it was just simple isometric hack and slash gameplay I would have been strapped in the whole time. It did not need to be revolutionary, it just needed to be functional. Instead it tries to be this ill-conceived chimera of opposing philosophies. The world design is based off a camera angle that obscures your vision and inherently hides information from you. It's combat assumes you have visual clarity so you can act with precision. These two ideals do not like each other. They do not communicate, they do not collaborate. I don’t know what their beef is. I assume Combat slept with World Design's wife or something. Regardless, they simply do not work together.

What can spice things up are the consumable items. I can't talk much about these because I never used them. Why complain about the combat being monotonous when I'm not using all the tools the game gives me? Because the game never tells me how to use them. Sure, you are given hints. But these are consumables. I'm not going to use them until I know exactly what they do. That's how my brain works. I theorize that's how most people's brains work and I'm sick of pretending this line of thinking is an outlier. If you want me to experiment and figure it out myself, make it unlimited use, otherwise fuck off with this cryptic nonsense. I get that it's the game's thing, but there's a point where it gets obnoxious and this is one of those points. I would have preferred this game had more puzzles and less riddles like the Legend of [redacted], but I accepted that this wasn't how it would go. But at least make the riddles free. I already have to spend time, now I have to spend resources too? Tunic is just a bit too cheeky for me and here it veers into active malice.

The game overall just doesn't feel great because of a lot of conscious design decisions that I don't agree with and animations I felt were underwhelming. But even with the correct decisions and animations I think I picked the wrong game. Or at least the wrong console. This game runs like ASS on the Nintendo Switch. And normally I would blame the Switch and myself for buying that version. But apparently all 8th gen consoles run poorly. The load times are egregious, the frame skips are abominable, and the lighting is unsubtle. The performance issues were not something I got used to like I do with most games, but something that compounded overtime and made me increasingly annoyed.

Mid way through Tunic, I didn't like the combat, but enjoyed the world and what I understood of the narrative. It had potential to be the NieR: Automata of this year for me. A game that transcends the medium in every way, but forgets to polish the core gameplay. Then the end game happened, and the Metroid Prime artifact hunt began. There were no new areas to explore. Just going through the same shit you've been through before. This was when I decided I disliked this game. If it just ended a few hours earlier and didn't have a terrible final boss, I might still be able to call Tunic good, despite all my gripes. But instead of ending on a high note of went out on a fading loop of the chorus. In conclusion: I'm not a fan.

#tunic game #tunic

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risu5waffles · 10 months ago

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Access VerboTEN

i guess if things go totally south wiv the servers, i won't need to worry about figuring out more TEN puns. That sucks.

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This one isn't wivout its charm, tho' if i'm to be honest, it's well chonkier than it really has the chops to sustain. i find a lot of levels that are designed to mechanically keep the player moving only really do so smoothly if the player manages to be in just the right spot, at just the right time, hitting things at just the right angles. Wibble off course a couple degrees, and you wind up wiv a lot of bouncepads throwing you exactly where you don't need to be; and since you've lost the expected momentum for that bit, it's hard to force your way back into the flow of things.

As an aside, but the Jon Burgerman sticker set gets a lot of play in this one, and it's cute and everything, but i always found the characters to be a little too of themselves to really work in my creations. But the side to that is, was Jon Burgerman a thing, for a bit? Did people know (of) him? i just picked up the sticker set because for a bit i was picking up every DLC that came down the pike and was cheap enough, but i sometimes get the feeling that there are cultural referents that i'm supposed to get, but i don't, because i've been here for 20yrs, and may as well be in null space.

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Just a little lockbox from @soupum . It's cute enough, and the opening cinematic works nicely, but it's here to do a job in the end, and it gets that job done. i really liked Soup putting his character in an action figure pack, and reminds me way back in the day, one of my title cards had the show characters as plushies at a festival.

Geeze... according to the notes, the title card was for Season 2 Episode 49, which went live November 9th, 2018. Going in the wayback a bit there.

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i really, really liked this one. i'll always appreciate 100% cardboard levels, that can manage to pull off a high degree of detail and character using just the cardboard. Like, no stickers or anything. This one pulls off the trick really nicely, getting a lot of texture out of thin layer objects. There are a few lights in there to give things a bit of a pop, but they're used well enough and sparingly enough, that i can't really dock too many points.

On top of the presentation, this is just a clever, fun level. There's lots of mechanical bits and interactions wiv the environment. It's a touch challenging, but nothing that would stress a player out too much. i'm really, really glad i stumbled over this one.

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This one is honestly super good, and i just wish i hadn't played it so badly, 'cause you can see it's designed to be done in one pell-mell run. i remember playing through so many times trying to get one smooth run for the Archive, and, you can see, the precision isn't really my strong point, but i still dig what's being laid down. The core mechanical conceit is really nifty, and it would have been interesting to see it worked into other platformers.

If i have a quibble, it's that the level looks so dang drab. Like, i recognize that the looks aren't really the point, but the grey-ish stone platforms and the grey background just bleed into one another. Just a little bit more colour contrast would have been really appreciated.

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i'm still surprised people liked this one as well as they did. i mean, i put a lot of effort into it, and i think it's good work, but at the end of the day, it's just a little moving scene.

You have no idea how much i would love to take a long trainride anywhere wiv my friends. The curse of building an online community is i will just never have the chance to see most of the people i care about in the flesh and tell them just how important they are to me.

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If you had any idea how much i fucking fiddled getting the new title card layouts to look just right... well, you'd probably laugh, and rightly so, but it took a lot of work for something that's barely noticeable. If the servers do get shuttered, and i only got the chance to show them for 25episodes (and a handful of LittleBite-sizedPlanet ones), i'm going to be pretty. darn. salty.

i don't really know what else to say about chronos453's Chapter Zero, i feel like an (almost) hour-long dive into it has left me pretty well tapped. Episode 0.1 is such a good start to the Adventure, tho'. Jumping is such a fundamental aspect of navigation, the cleverness of the level design becomes rapidly apparent. The material choices and decoration are just chef's kiss as well.

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Episode 0.2 is a bit of a stepdown, although i think almost anything would have been. Swimming is just such a "kind of there" ability to work wiv. Also, while i've eventually come around on the warped wood material here, the wider camera just doesn't flatter it much at all.

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Presentation-wise, we're back in the saddle again wiv 0.3. The desert area up front just looks gorgeous, and i think is a fantastic example of how the extra layers LBP3 gave us should be used. The sky islands in the second half are complete catnip (squirrelnip?) to me. i've just always had a soft spot for them.

Gameplay-wise, the level is a lot of fun, even if the climbing mechanic is... i mean, it's fine, but it's only kinda-sorta a basic ability. i mean, it is a basic ability for LBP3, but it muddies the waters a bit as to when exactly this level is taking place in regards to the series.

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Revelation and End of the Line are so, so good. i know chronos complains some about the look of Revelation, but... it still makes me a bit teary, so he got something right.

Shame about Departure being a bit pants, but no engine fires on every cylinder every time, i guess.

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Oh my gosh, but do i love the environment in this one. Those conveyor belt dealies breaking apart as you wear down the Adversary Zone? It is such a cool little effect. chronos said he wishes he'd made the "boss" sections a bit more active, or more precisely interactive, and i get it, but i think what we've got here is more than engaging enough for the effect he's aiming for.

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And that's another TENspot down. Just two more of these. Maybe? As far as i know, there hasn't been any word from Sumo on how the maintenance is going, but that doesn't surprise me any. While i do appreciate the work they've done keeping the lights on, and i recognize it's not an easy task wiv what is likely a skeleton crew, Sumo has, frankly, always been for shite when it's come to communication wiv the LBP community. They're probably too busy trying to figure out how to wring a little more blood from the stone that is Texas Chainsaw.

#littlebigplanet #little big planet #lbp #lbp1 #lbp2 #lbp3 #littlebite-sizedarchive #LBsA #Youtube

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jigjamjupiter · 11 months ago

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dontread i Hate november

i want to make so much art do so much interesting math map the relationships i see in the world do awesome work with good people make really good connections with the people i'm meeting Now Now Is The Time the pharmacy isn't open i spend too much time on my phone i'm so exhausted i just want to lay down for a Minute i haven't put up my posters i don't have good mechanisms for Staying on Top of things it's 11:59 it's 12:01 the pharmacy isn't open my mail was not delivered I planned to get this done by now I was having a lot of fainting spells i should choose recovery swear this should work i can't find the bug its 11:59 it's a zero a lot of time energy i spent so much time is so fast it's so long until the pharmacy is open i think i'm having seizures it's just really hard to think i've got to focus study if i want to do anything good i want to have time to do zines puzzles make an etsy play with toys learn chinese learn all of math learn i have so much homework it takes all of the time it can take you don't have a job its the duty of a friend it is never done i promise i'll turn this in later been feeling really terrible i'm Trying sorry for the delay again i don't mean to make an excuse i'll get it done my laptop is broken my papsi died i think i'm having seizures i just need to lie down i promise i'll get it done i'm hungry probably i should eat i need food to think to work to feel good i don't know what to eat it takes so much time to find i'll just work all night again i need to work ahead but when is ahead? nobody will tell me when is ahead? how do i get there? where is ahead? however long i have i expand to fill the space i want to be so clever so focused i was once I want to map the world ALL its interactions I want to see everything i don't have time to ask for help have you ever seen me be smart? be on the wall of honor don't fail don't fail im trying i think i'm having seizures maybe exploding do i have time to get a sweatshirt please don't fail me i guess i don't need another appointment I don't have the energy to think so much right now I have homework i really need to study i don't have time to stop if i could slow down time if i had my meds the pharmacy isn't open i've already made too many excuses i've already not done it i want to be so much where was i? where have i been am i okay? i put my phone down my vision is black moving makes me nauseous i had class today i'm learning to eat let me know if i need anything i didn't find time to exercise sorry i spent too long on my phone sorry i haven't been around i just need catch up please tell me i'm trying to get out i know who i've been i want to be me i want to be me i'm proud of you for doing hard things i hung up my clothes sorry i was too nauseous to open my eyes what have you done recently that's difficult it's 11:59 my jaw is cramping the pharmacy isn't open i'll text when i can breathe a minute your 10 year old self would be proud of you i just need to get on top of things, the pharmacy isn't open

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honda-hatch · 1 year ago

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Reviewing the First 14 Issues of Amazing Spider-Man Because Nobody Asked Me To But I'm Procrastinating From Editing a Presentation Video for a Grad Class (Scattered Spoilers)

The Amazing Spider-Man #1 (March 1963): What a strange issue this is. Admittedly, I'm new to older comics, so this multi-chapter meandering story really kept me from trying to get further in for *years.* Now having actually read it, its still a weak story, but not straight-up garbage or anything. Spidey saving astronauts isn't particularly exciting, but the fight with the Fantastic Four is -- it sets the stage for many of the webhead's fights where he's obviously outmatched, but holds his own with agility and quick thinking. Pete is obviously very early in his career at this point, but it serves as an excellent display for his potential, not to mention it highlights his desperate need for money (the F4 note that they can't give salaries, but like, Jesus Christ do they clearly have money. Maybe if Johnny didn't buy a new car every week, they could pay a salary). Then, we have the final plot, Spidey vs. the Chameleon. The first of many plots where the city initially turns against our favorite wall-crawler due to his framing. It isn't executed very well here, due to the cramped size of the story, but it is a fun concept, and we get to see the first of many times Spidey conveniently runs out of web-fluid. A solid issue overall, if not the best possible introduction to the character, imo.

The Amazing Spider-Man #2 (May 1963): Here we are introduced to Peter Parker's first "real" super-powered enemy (for lack of a better term). The Chameleon is just good at disguises. While Peter's first fight with the Vulture isn't all too memorable, it does establish the concept of the "chase fight," a troupe critical to the book. If you're unfamiliar with what I mean, I'm referring to fights that bring the webhead and his adversary up, down, and all around the Big Apple over the course of the fight. Pete's clever solution is an interesting display of the scientific prowess that he'll develop throughout the series. The second story, our first introduction to the Tinkerer... is goofy as hell. Sure, an old guy in a Vulture costume might seem silly, but the Tinkerer is a straight up alien who runs a discount repair shopo so he can sneak alien transponders into consumer electronics. I guess it fit the tone of Marvel at the time? I don't know.

The Amazing Spider-Man #3 (July 1963): Finally, a book-length story. This is an excellent issue. Now no longer cramped into half or quarter length stories, we get an excellent introduction to Doc Ock. He promptly beats the shit out of Peter, who has had a relatively easy time winning fights so far, to the point that he questions if he should give up the mantle of Spider-Man. After a random human torch pep-talk, he returns to fight again, concluding the issue with a triumphant victory, managing to put two of Doc Ock's arms out of comission and getting in close to finish him off. An excellent issue, and definitely a cut above the first two.

The Amazing Spider-Man #4 (September 1963): Another solid issue. Though Sandman doesn't get presented as the highly sympathetic villain he'd later become, he's still very entertaining. The highlight of the issue is a chase fight through midtown high, culminating with the (admittedly silly) solution of Spidey attacking Sandman with a drill, causing him to break into sand to avoid the attack, then getting sucked up into a vacuum. Another incredible victory for the wall-crawler. It's still a fun read.

The Amazing Spider-Man #5 (October 1963): Finally, ASM is a monthly book! What a pleasant surprise. That being said, having zero context for Doctor Doom's powerset, I didn't really understand why he kept breaking out random decoy robots and trap holes. Overall, a bit of a bland issue that quickly fades from the memory.

The Amazing Spider-Man #6 (November 1963): Why does the Lizard need to be based in the Everglades? Who cares! It makes for a fun change of location. Even if the Lizard's design is a bit rough at this stage, he's an intimidating villain with power greater than the wall-crawler's. His sympathetic backstory serves as a twist for the issue, and our chase sequence for the issue takes place in the Everglades, and then... a castle in the Everglades. Regardless, its great fun with a happy ending (even if not for Pete).

The Amazing Spider-Man #7 (December 1963): What a way to finish 1963! This issue is fantastic. We see Vulture's escape from prison, and then we get to see him beat the crap out of Spidey as his original solution obviously fails. The issue culminates in an incredible chase fight through the Daily Bugle, with setpieces scattered throughout. We even get a nice little touching note to end on with Betty Brant and Peter. What a guy, what an issue.

The Amazing Spider-Man #8 (January 1964): Looking at this cover for the first time, I expected this to be a real slog of an issue, but its actually great fun. The Living Brain/Flash fights are a good time, and its entertaining to read Pete's inner monologue as he tries not to turn Flash into a grease stain on the gym floor. The Living Brain is less interesting, but is another entertaining interior fight. The Living Torch section confirms that the F4 could absolutely pay Peter if they wanted to, and that Pete can still thoroughly outmatch them if he's really trying. A fun issue.

The Amazing Spider-Man #9 (February 1964): An excellent example of the personal drama that makes this hero great. Sure, Electro is a big threat, but Aunt May's health is in a rough place for the first time of many. Peter gets bodied by Electro, but he's still focused on helping his aunt first. Frankly, he beats Electro rather nonchalantly, but the May plot makes it a worthwhile issue.

The Amazing Spider-Man #10 (March 1964): Another excellent issue. While the Enforcers themselves are literally "big guy, small guy, and guy with lasso," they facilitate a fight that lsts for half the entire issue, with Spidey fighting off what must be a dozen different goons aat once, with everything in the environment being used. The issue closes out with two twists: an amusing reveal of the "Big Man," as well as some interesting characterization for JJJ. A standout issue among these early entires to me, along with #7.

The Amazing Spider-Man #11 (April 1964): Another issue in a series of bangers. Intrigue with Betty Brant! Spidey has to go to Philly! Doc Ock returning! A massive fight with a bunch of guys on a boat as well as Doc Ock! An accidental death on the wall-crawler's hands! Oh, the humanity! Not to mention Pete gives himself a damn sprained ankle early in the issue. The guy just can't catch a break.

The Amazing Spider-Man #12 (May 1964): Our first immediately continued story from the last issue, and it doesn't really let up. Doc Ock returns to New York and demands to fight the webhead, even kidnapping Betty Brant in the process! Luckily though, she escapes, as apparently, one of Pete's biggest weaknesses is the fact that a regular virus absolutely wipes his spider-powers. Who knew? Anyhow, he gets unmasked, but it doesn't really matter. The issue concludes with another exciting fight with Doc Ock. The guy just generates entertaining issues. Really does seem to be Pete's nemesis at this point.

The Amazing Spider-Man #13 (June 1964): Finally, the city *really* turning on Spider-Man! Mysterio really gets Spidey up in a bind, but the actual resolution for the issue is a bit weak. How can Spidey clear his name? Well, he uses an audio recorder when Mysterio is monologuing. How can Spidey beat Mysterio's spider-sense jamming smoke/sonar? Swinging randomly. Bah.

The Amazing Spider-Man #14 (July 1964): My God! The return of my beloved Enforcers! The introduction of Green Goblin?? And the Hulk's here too?? Yeah, sadly this is a lame issue. For whatever reason, the Green Goblin's first of many conniving schemes is... luring SPidey out to Hollywood with the help of a producer so that he and the Enforcers can kill him while they film... Why not just... gang up on him in New York? Why, so they can randomly stumble into a cave where the Hulk is, of course! Yeah, idk. The randomness is nuts with this one. Not to mention Green Goblin's friggin... broomstick. Hm. At least the Enforcers fight was kinda fun. Still a lame issue, though.

That's it for now. Perhaps I'll review them in 14 issue blocks for no reason. I am trying to read everything chronologically, ish, so it might not just be ASM next time! We shall see. If that happens. lol

#spiderman #amazing spider man #comics

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mellow-worlds · 1 year ago

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From the beginning I felt very attracted to him. Not necessarily on the first night we met, because I mostly talked to a back then, but ever since the first time we actually started talking. I'm really grateful for him and it seems like he really wanted to spend time with me yesterday. I'm really happy about that. We went to the lectures together and sat next to each other and I even went to this other lecture with him just because. Every now and then, our arms would brush against each other and I always tried to kind of lean in a little to facilitate the touch. After the lectures, even after A left, we went to the cafe on campus and just kept talking and he postponed his gym date a little, just so we could keep talking. We talked about a lot of things and I laughed a lot. At times I might've opened up a little too much, since he studies psych I hope he doesn't realise how much in my brain went wrong. I told him about dad's upcoming marriage and how I never really got along with my mom. I suppose it could be worse. He opened up a little as well, talking about how he kind of has a choleric side to him sometimes and I told him I can only really get mad at my mother. But luckily, the tone never was too serious, we kept joking around and laughing. Something that embarrasses me a little is that I accidentally made it clear that I don't like it when people smoke and he seemed very conscious about that. While walking to the train station, he was super cautious to blow the smoke in the opposite direction. Ofc I appreciate that, but I wish I hadn't made him feel bad about it (if I even did idk). He told me never to start smoking and that he just generally likes to consume drugs. He's very sweet, and he's been very honest. I always try to be as honest as possible as well, but sometimes I just don't say something because it would "make me look bad" even if it totally wouldn't. I'm super conscious about the things I say most of the time, so it's hard for me to turn it off. Another thing! We talked about haircolour and he thought my hair was natural. He also told me it looks good on me :)))))). I could only ashamedly say "thanks" and look at the ground, before the conversation was carried on quickly. We even hugged after saying good bye in the train. He's just so attractive. He's perfect, honestly.

I really don't know if he likes me in any way. He probably was just being kind. I mean, I don't really have anything to offer. He did find it interesting that I'm an anarchist and maybe the fact that I also write poetry caught his eye. And yes, our conversation felt natural and never really came to a halt. But idk, I'm not particularly interesting or smart or funny or clever or pretty. I really can't tell if he thinks well of me or if he's just being nice. And honestly, this guy is part of the reason I might delay my suicide. I said I'd be dead until the end of November, but now I want to see how things go. My friends at uni and kinda my old friends at well kinda gave me back my will to live. Or at least when I'm with them. When I'm alone I can sometimes smile when I think about them, but I'm still very sad. It's not as bad as it used to be, though. Idk. Like I said, I want to see how things play out. Maybe I'll be happier again should we get closer, which is the best I could hope for. And if we don't, i can still end it all. I wonder how I'd do it... it's just a little frustrating how I keep postponing it. But it's not like I actually have a deadline or anything lmao. To be honest, death sounds very nice. I wish for my death to be peaceful. P and I talked about getting old and we both said we couldn't imagine getting older than thirty, both thinking we might die before that. He wants to have kids at around thirty though. I think that inside of him, there lies a very deep sadness. I wouldn't say he'd want to kill himself as well, but I think that deep down, he's very sad. What he told me about consuming drugs is kind of enough, ngl. Either way, I kind of miss him rn. It's stupid, I wouldn't have seen him anyway this weekend since both of us left our city, but yeah. I've been thinking a lot about him. My sister's bf came with us and we're showing him the cutt a little, so I keep thinking about what it'd be like showing P the city. Yeah.... I'm hopeless. I don't want to ignore all the time we've spent together so far and how he even freed up some time just to talk to me, but it's like... I don't have a lot of good features he could've noticed so he probably doesn't care about me specifically. And yeah, talking to someone doesn't make you find them interesting in any way. I mean yeah, to me, he's incredibly attractive. Ofc that doesn't account for anything. Alr atp I'm running in circles, I guess I'll just have to wait. If I get sadder again, I'll just kill myself. I'm saying that like it's easy.

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louisthomsonhnd2a · 1 year ago

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Front Cover Research - Task 1 - Front Covers

Cover 1 - Harpers Bazaar December 2021

Photographer Agata Pospieszynska has used possibly multiple lights w diffusers/softboxes on the model to give a nice even amount of light over the models face and clothes, but with a subtle shadow over the right side of the face and hair as to help add form. The almost contraposto positioning of the model compliments this type of lighting well. They have also used a white background when distanced further from the lights than the model results in it having a grey hue, which helps bring the whites and light features of the models face and clothing to help them stand out and stops the image looking flat.

The fun use of the polkadotted garment provides a pleasant amount of colour to the image which is also brought out by the otherwise neutral tones in the image. The amount of colour is also appropriate as I feel like anything more would be too overpowering and distract from the models face, which is obviously the focal point. The subtle skin tones of the models body coming through under the sheer material is also key as it stops them looking like a floating head. The garment and colour is also effective in emanating a sense of fun and describes the model Jodie comer quite well as she is known for playing very eccentric quirky characters and being quite a colourful personality, which I think the cover is good at conveying which is important.

More Agata Pospieszynska Images

Cover 2 - Dazed November 2020

I really enjoy this cover by Photographer Arnaud Lajeunie for its boldness and use of light. The photographer has appeared to have used one singular light close to the models face and/or with a honeycomb or other attachment resulting in a strong highlight on one side of the models face, with a harsh shadow on the other side. This stark contrast adds to the boldness to the overall image. The fact there is no light on the models body creates this silhouette which blends up into the models upper half, creating a contrast between 2D and 3D which is very clever. The use of the red and black also go very well together. The red of the models coat is essential for the effectiveness of the image as any other colour would ruin the striking theme of the front cover.

More Arnaud Lajeunie Images

Task 2 - Movie-inspired Moodboard

"BLADE 1998"

”BLADE” is a superhero film by marvel that follows a vampire/human hybrid vampire hunter of which the title is named after and his quest to eradicate a community of elistist vampires. The film has since garnered a cult following for its depiction of nightlife and cinematography. I really enjoy this film for the same reason and feel it has a certain “campness” to it which I can't exactly explain but can appreciate even more considering this as it is a superhero film. I feel like the many cultural references and certain edgy aesthetic it has throughout would translate well into a front cover fashion moment, so I chose it for this reason.

#fashion research

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valeriethepussycats · 3 years ago

Text

Inside Out

Chapter 4

Pairing- Loki x Reader

Warning-cursing and childhood trauma

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Flashbacks are in bold.

“The celebration had been going on strong for the last few hours, and there wasn’t an end in sight. Asgardians strolled through the streets, rejoicing the fact that the Nine Realms were safe at last. Friends laughed, kids played, and warriors recounted their many victorious battles.

Y/n,Gambit,Sif, and The warrior three are all drinking in the castle, until Y/n starts to get flashes of Loki. He was in the scorching sun day in and day out,and they deprive him of water for weeks, and someone used the mind stone on him. Outside her head all the glass bottles and wine glasses bust, and Gambit immediately looks over at Y/n and see the black vines on her arm but before he could make his way over to her but time freeze.

Y/n gets up and runs to the dungeon, when she gets there she just stands in front of Loki’s cell looking down at her feet. Having a hard time looking at him and not see what she saw.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Loki said as he looks around and see everyone is frozen. “Are you doing this?”

“why didn’t you tell me....why didn’t you tell me you were tortured.” Y/n questioned.

Loki looks at Y/n with wide eyes. “How do you do know that.”

“The stars, our minds all of that is Connected remember. How you not tell me.” Y/n said with Infrequent blinking.

“I didn’t want you to see that.” Loki answered.

“You were alone before you came to earth.” Y/n said as a tear rolls down her face.

The Black vines starts to slowly climb up her arm and appear on her face. Loki see that Y/n is in distress from what she learned. He knows what will happen if he let her feel those emotions. So he walks up the to the shield and use his up most calming and soothing voice he could muster at a time like this.

“It’s ok I’m fine Y/n look at me look at me.” Loki pleased.

Y/n looks at Loki with an empty stare. “No it’s not fine.....you were tortured. You were tortured into do what you did on earth. You was being watched. Even if I was aware of what was going on with you there was nothing I could’ve done. Nothing you could’ve done cause if you would’ve said or done anything differently they would’ve killed you.”

“I tried my best to get to rid those memory. I knew you would be able to feel it.” Loki said.

“I never wanted to experience those feeling.....not again?” Y/n quavered. “Not again.”

“What do you mean by ‘not again’?” Loki dais with a firm voice.

“The people that took me did this to me they put someone else’s X-Gene inside of me and I have to learn how to control it....and when I couldn’t control it they would put a collar around my neck then throw me into a dark room. The feeling of loneliness every day inside that room...if it wasn’t for Gambit....” Y/n trailed off. But Loki knew what she was going to say.

“I’m so sorry. I am here.” Loki puts he’s hand on over the Barrier of the cell walk and Y/n copies his movement.

“The person that did that to you.” Robin started. “What was there name?”

“Thanos” Loki answered.

“Thanos.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

At that same time, back on Asgard, Heimdall, the all-seeing keeper of the Rainbow Bridge, stood at his post at the edge of the observatory, scanning the cosmos. He did not turn when Thor approached, but spoke as soon as the prince was behind him.

“You're late.” Heimdall announced.

“Merriment can sometimes be a heavier burden than battle.” Thor stated.

“Then you're doing one of them incorrectly.” Heimdall commented.

Thor chuckles. “Perhaps. How fare the stars?”

“Still shining. From here I can see Nine Realms and ten trillion souls.” Heimdall looks at Thor for a moment. “You recall what I told you of the Convergence?”

“Yes, the alignment of the worlds. It approaches, doesn't it?” Thor asked.

“The universe hasn't seen this marvel since before my watch began. Few can sense, even fewer can see it. A world that's infected can be dangerous. It is truly beautiful.” Heimdall explained.

They looks out into the stars. “I see nothing.”

“Or perhaps that is not the beauty you seek.”

Thor laughs. “How is she?”

“She's quite clever, your mortal. She doesn't know it yet, but she studies the Convergence as well. Even...” Heimdall stops as he senses something.”

“What?” Thor stressed.

“I can't see her.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

We see Jane being infected by the Aether] [after Jane is infected with the Aether she reawakens in the factory, she runs out to find Darcy has called the police.

“Jane! Where the hell were you?” Darcy exclaimed.

“Tell me you didn't call the police!” Jane inquired.

“What was I supposed to do?” Darcy asked.

“Not call the police!” Jane yelled.

“I was freaking out.” Darcy stuttered.

“You call the cops they tell the feds, the next thing you know we have Shield crawling all over area fifty-one-ing the place.” Jane proclaimed.

“Jane!”

“We had a stable gratification anomaly, we had unheeded access. Our only competition was ten years old!”

“Jane, you were gone for five hours!” Darcy disclosed.

“What?....”

Suddenly the weather turns, it starts raining and they hear the sound of thunder, Jane looks around her and puts her hand out.

“That's weird.” Darcy noted.

They see it's raining but it's not raining on Jane and Darcy, there's an invisible barrier protecting them, suddenly Jane sees Thor standing a few feet away from them, Jane hands her gadget to Darcy and walks towards Thor, as she walks away the invisible barrier follows her and the rain starts falling on Darcy.

“Typical.”

Jane walks towards Thor.

“Jane.”

“As she reaches him suddenly she slaps him hard in the face. “Sorry. I just needed to make sure you were real, it's been a very strange day.”

“Well, I am. Jane...”

Suddenly she slaps him again. “Where were you?!”

“Where were you? Heimdall could not see you.” Thor said.

“I was right here where you left me. I was waiting and then I was crying and then I went out looking for you. You said you were coming back.” Jane said in a level tone.

“I know, I know, but the Bifrost was destroyed. The Nine Realms erupted into chaos, wars were raging, marauding hordes were pillaging. I had to put an end to the slaughter.” Thor explained.

“As excuses go, that's not terrible. But I saw you on TV, you were...you were in New York! Fighting with Y/n.” Jane said without trying to sound Jealous.

But she was he was spending all that time with Y/n. Ok she was the only person that believe him but Jane did to (with reason).

Does Thor have Heimdall to look in on Y/n.

“Jane, I fought to protect you from the dangers of my world, but I was wrong, I was a fool.” Thor places his hand Jane's face. “I believe that fate brought us together. Jane, I don't know where you were or what happened, but I do know this.”

“What?”

“I know...”

“You do?”

“Do what?”

They lean in close and just as they are about to kiss Darcy interrupts them; referring to the rain.

“Hey! Is that you?”

Thor looks up and the rain stops.

“Uh...we're kind of in the middle of something.” Jane sigh of irritation as she look at Darcy.

“Um...I'm pretty sure we are getting arrested” Darcy replied.

Jane look over at Thor. “Hold that thought.” She turns and runs towards the police.

“Look at you, still all muscly and everything. How's space?” Darcy asked.

“Space is fine.” Thor answered.

Jane walks over to the police. “Excuse me?”

“Are you Jane Foster?” One of police officer asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you know this man?” police officer said referring to Ian.

“He's my intern. My intern's intern.” Jane answered.

“This is private property and you're trespassing, the lot of you. You'll have to come with me.” The police officer goes t grab Jane's arm but suddenly the force from the Aether creates a powerful force which pushes the officer and everything else away,

Thor runs towards Jane who's lying on the ground.

“Jane! Jane?” Thor said as he helps her stand. “You alright?”

“What just happened?” Jane asked.

The other police officer approaches Jane apprehensively. “Place your hands on your head, step back!”

“The woman is unwell.” Thor answered.

“She's dangerous.”

“So am I.” Thor disclosed.

Talking into his radio. “Requesting armed response officers to the scene.” Thor grabs Jane and pulls her closer to him.

“Hold on to me.”

“What are you doing?” Suddenly the Bifrost opens and Thor takes Jane to Asgard; Darcy looks up as they disappear

“Holy shit!” Darcy shouted.

Thor and Jane travel through the Bifrost and enter Asgard where Heimdall is guarding as always, Jane looks around her in amazement.

“We have to do that again.” she notices Heimdall for the first time. “Hi.”

“Welcome to Asgard.” Heimdall announced.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Returning to their homeland, Svartalfheim, Malekith kneels and grabs a handful of dust from the ground. “Look at my legacy, Algrim. I barely remember the time before light.”

Algrim places his hand on Malekith's shoulder. “Our survival will be your legacy.”

“The Asgardians will suffer as we have suffered. I will reclaim the Aether. I will restore our world and I'll put an end to this poisonous world.” Malekith replied.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Asgard.

Loki is laying down on his bed, think about what happened the other day. The way Y/n was angry for him and what he saw. He didn’t know if he deserve such passion. What has he done to deserve that from her.

Maybe Odin is right

Y/n appeared in his cell, looks over at her and see she’s looks upset.

“What’s the matter? Did you have a another memory?” Loki said sitting up.

“No.... I just had to say goodbye to Gambit that all.” Y/n said with a downturned head.

“Gambit, he’s alive?” Loki questioned looking shocked.

“Yes, he is. Why you asked me that?” Y/n wondered then realization hits her. “Did you see one of my memories?”

Loki nods yes.

“Which one?” Y/n said with an intriguing voice.

“He was dying.” Loki answered.

“Oh.....that one.” Y/n said in a small voice. “That day would ever be known as November 18th. That was the day I lost control...caused an earthquake and black out in the upper east of the United States.”

“What happened?” Loki wondered.

“I had a nightmare but it wasn’t like any other nightmare it was vivid. I the way his blood felt on my hands. I ever since that day my father was trying to find ways to conceal my powers and when he did I will get the senses when something good or bad was gonna happen sometimes it was painful sometimes it wasn’t.” Y/n explained.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.”

Loki walks over to Y/n and lif her head up with his index finger so she’s looking at him. “Why would you tell me?”

“I don’t know it just felt like the right thing to do.” Y/n answered smile. “That’s what you do when you care about someone you open up to them.”

“You caring for me only make things worst.” Loki said with his head down. “After your two weeks you will never see me again. You dealing with the feeling of yearning will not be good for you or your powers.”

“My powers?” Y/n said in a curious tone. “What makes you think I won’t stay on Asgard?”

“Y/n...you just got someone you care about back into your life and you would willingly leave them behind for me?”

“Gambit, with understand.” Y/n replied.

“You would hate to living here on Asgard.”

“No, I won’t because you’re here.”

Loki walks over to Y/n and lif her head up with his index finger so she’s looking at him. “Y/n, when your two weeks are up....you are going to have to let me go?”

“No..No I’m not letting anything go.” Y/n said putting some space between her and Loki. “And don’t you say if you love me let me go.”

“If you don’t you could hurt people.” Loki said walking up to Y/n hugging her from the back.

“Since when do you care about people?” Y/n asked sarcastically.

“Because your care about people.” Loki answered.

Y/n turns around and gives Loki Direct eye contact. “Don’t ask me to let you go because I won’t.”

“Y/n....” Loki said struggling to find the right words to say.

“I should go I have to met your mom.” Y/n said.

And just like that Y/n is gone and Loki stands there facial muscles tensing.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

As the Asgardian physicians study Jane and the force within her. “What's that?”

“Be still.” Eir said in a snappy voice.

Thor watches with one of the nurses as they examine Jane. “This is not of Earth, what is it?”

“We do not know, but she will not survive the amount of energy surging within her.” the nurse turns and walks away as Thor looks at Jane with worry.

“That's a quantum field generator, isn't it?” Jane asked.

“It's a Soul Forge.” Eir answered.

“Does a Soul Forge transfer molecular energy from one place to another?” Jane questioned.

Eir looks impressed. “Yes.”

Jane looks at Thor and whispers. “It's a quantum field generator.” Thor smiles at her.

Odin enters the room as the Thor looks on to Jane as she is being examined. “My words are mere noises to you that you ignore them completely?”

”She's ill.” Thor disclosed.

“She is mortal. Illness is their defining trait.” Odin replied.

“I brought here because we can help her.” Thor told Odin.

“She does not belong here in Asgard anymore than a goat belongs at a banquet table.“ Odin replied.

Jane sits up and looks at Thor. “Did he just...?” Jane started. “Who do you think you are?”

“I'm Odin. King of Asgard. Protector of the Nine Realms.” Odin answered.

“Oh. Well, I'm...”

“I know very well who you are, Jane Foster.”

Jane turns to look at Thor. “You told your Dad about me?”

“Something is within her, father, something I have not seen before.” Thor explained.

“Her world has its healers, their called doctors, let them deal with it. Guards, take her back to Midgard.” Odin said as two guards approach Jane and go to grab her, suddenly the energy force within her sets off again throwing the two guards aside.

“Don't touch her.” Thor said as he leans down and tenderly touches Jane. “Jane, are you alright?”

Jane nods her head, Odin inspects the energy force running through Jane's body and realizes it's the Aether. “That's impossible.”

“The infection, it's defending her.” Eir said in a shocked face.

“No, it's defending itself.” Thor corrected.

“Come with me. There are relics that predate the universe itself. What lies within her appears to be one of them. The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn as they will have a dusk.” Odin said showing Thor and Jane an ancient book. “But before that dawn the dark forces, the Dark Elves, reigned absolute and unchallenged.”

Thor reading from the book. “Born of eternal night, the Dark Elves comes to steal away your light. They were these stories mother told us as children.”

“Their leader, Malekith made a weapon out of that darkness, it was called the Aether. While the other relics often appeared as stones, the Aether is fluid and ever changing. It changes matter into dark matter and seeks out to host bodies, drawing strength from their life force. Malekith sought to use the Aether's power to return the universe to one of darkness. But after eternities of blood shed, my father Bor, finally triumphed, ushering in the peace that lasted thousands of years.”

“What happened?” Jane chimed in.

“He killed them all.” Odin answered.

“Are you certain? The Aether was said to have been destroyed with them and yet here it is.” Thor specified.

“The Dark Elves are dead.” Odin commented.

“Does your book happen to mention how to get it out of me?” Jane questioned.

“No, it does not.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is sitting crisscross apple sauce in her room’s balcony. Thinking about what happened between her and Loki.

Was that our first fight?

Y/n’s emotions were at a frenzy. She didn’t understand why Loki was acting like that. She wanted to be mad. Something happened to change his mind on everything.

What if i’m overthinking it Gambit did say I think and feel more then anyone else

Y/n let’s out a sigh of irritation.

“It’s ok if my thoughts run a mile but focus on one.” Y/n said closing her eye.

So am I supposed to just sit here.

Yes I am going to be spinning this day with my daughter

Y/n can hear Frigga’s voice clear as day. She doesn’t know if it’s was her inner or outer voice.

“I didn’t know Thor had a sister.” Y/n mumbled to herself.

Y/n gets a knock on her door and she opens it with the flick of her hand.

“So I see your trying to meditate that’s a good start.” Frigga said walking in the room. The door shut close as Frigga makes her way over to Y/n.

“Yes. But I’m failing miserably at it.” Y/n laughed at herself. “I learned that my mind is a satellite. I’m always going to pick up others people thoughts. So I had to learn how to store them in the back of my mind. But even then it still feels crowded.”

“You poor dear, I can not imagine how you feel but I think I can help. Close your eyes imagine everything in your head.” Frigga said.

Y/n takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

“Now I want you to think of the similarities of Asgard and Midgard.” Frigga said.

“That’s kind of hard Asgard is beautiful while Earth only as hidden gems.....the sunset are beautiful.” Y/n answered.

“When you think of the sun, what do you think of?” Frigga asked.

“Warm light.”

“And what is light?”

“Electricity....and electricity is power.”

“How does one turn off power?” Frigga wondered.

“By flipping a switch.” Y/n grinned.

“Now turn it off switch.” Frigga told Y/n.

Y/n flips a switch off in her mind and everything going quite. She opens her eyes and looks up at Frigga smiling.

“It’s gone. It’s not crowded anymore. Thank you.” Y/n rejoiced.

A rainbow appears in the sky as all the clouds disappear. Y/n gets up from the ground and hugs Frigga, then immediately letting her go.

She’s a queen you have to remember that

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Y/n said with a downward gaze.

Frigga smiles. “Y/n, it is fine.” Frigga looks out and sees a rainbow. “That wouldn’t be your doing would is?”

“Sorry.” Y/n goes to fix the sky but Frigga stops her.

“I think it’s rather lovely.”

Y/n smiles at Frigga.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

back on Svartalfheim, in his ship Malekith plots his vengeance against the Asgardians.

“The Realms will be aligned soon.” Malekith takes out a knife and turns to Algrim.“You'll be the last of the Kursed.”

Malekith stabs Algrim in the stomach with his knife. “Let my life be sacrificed. The same as our people.”

“You will become darkness, doomed to this existence until it consumes you.” Malekith started. One of the dark elves places a molten rock in Malekith's hand and Malekith places it inside Algrim's stomach. “And then no power of our enemies will stop me.”

“I'll destroy their defenses and resurrect the universe.” Malekith looks to one of his dark elves as he carries a mask.

A/n- I can’t believe the Loki tv show season one is done. (Sigh) I guess I’ll be waiting.

#loki x black reader #loki x reader #loki x black!reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor x jane

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

Text

"I Can't Believe It!"

Tuesday 10th November 2020

(Part 2)

Hello again folks! Hope your week is going well so far. Today's blog is going to be reviewing the second episode which aired on Tuesday evening. The first part ended with a big cliff-hanger where Rainie asked Tiffany to be a surrogate for her and Stuart. Will Tiffany agree? I'm certain the majority of you are well ahead compared to me, but I hope you'll enjoy reading this blog regardless.

Anyway, let's jump right into. The episode begins with Tiffany, Rainie and Stuart in the Café. This clearly looks to be the day after Rainie asked Tiffany the biggest favour of her life. Stuart and Rainie are eager to hear whether Tiffany has made a decision on whether to be their surrogate. Tiffany admits she still hasn't come to a decision as she admits that there's a lot to take into consideration. It's understandable that she'd be worried about Keegan also and what he'd say. I mean, £10,000 is a lot of money, Tiffany and Keegan would be able to make such a good life for themselves with that money, how could she say no?! Plus she'd be giving a couple something they've always wanted, don't they deserve to be parents? As Rainie and Tiffany are discussing the situation, Keegan makes his way into the Café, he briefly acknowledges Stuart, but Stuart can barely look him in the eye and leaves without saying a word. Keegan looks instantly suspicious, why would Stuart avoid him like that?! As Rainie follows Stuart out of the Cafe, Keegan approaches his wife and asks basically what is going on and mentions how weird Stuart acted towards him. He questions whether it was because they were still angry about Rainie's accident, but Tiffany assures her husband that that's not the case, she then feels like she has to come clean, he'll only find out eventually, so it's probably best if she tells him now, it's then she admits the truth that they've asked her to be a surrogate for them.

Meanwhile, Denise has taken young Raymond to the park, it's incredibly sweet how she's trying to bond with her son. It's understandable why the boy is so shy and timid, he's been swooped into a new environment and - as far as I know - has no idea where his Nan or parents or siblings are, how can a young boy his age understand what's going on. Denise is unknown to him, she's just this lady who has taken him in, but of course he's not going to know that she's his Mum, and probably won't know for a long time. I love how Denise is so gentle with him, talking to him even though he doesn't respond. As she's talking to the young boy, Jack turns up as he's running through the park. Even though they have split up, they remain friendly as Jack asks how little Raymond is getting on, Denise confirms that he's settling in slowly but he still doesn't talk very much, she mentions that she's going to take him to a specialist just to see if it'll help as she doesn't feel ready to put him into a nursery yet. Jack mentions perhaps he could socialise with other children - which I think would be a brilliant idea, the amount of children on the Square, I'm sure it wouldn't be long until he made friends. Maybe Denise might let him play with other children eventually?

At the undertakers, Keegan is livid about what the Highway's have asked of his wife. He accuses Stuart of wanting to sleep with his 17 year old wife (Also I had no idea that Tiffany was just 17! I thought she was at least 19/20!) ... Anyway, Stuart and Tiffany both reassure Keegan that Stuart wouldn't have to sleep with her for her to carry a baby, Stuart confirms that it's all done in lab, and the baby biologically would be Stuart and Rainie's, they simply just need someone to carry the baby for them, someone they trust. Everything would be above board and legal. Keegan sighs as he seems to understand everything but he informs Stuart that they're going to have to find someone else - the next line I didn't really like the sound of "My wife's body is not for rent!" - I'm amazed how Keegan can even see it like that! Like seriously, how does his brain work?! Tiffany would be doing a wonderful act for a couple who can't conceive and who are desperate to have a child, I think it's probably the most honourable thing you could do for someone. Tiffany is speechless as her husband walks out leaving Stuart devastated.

Meanwhile on the Square, Phil walks past Kat on her stall, and once again she's winding him up as she's still wearing his West Ham football shirt. Phil has had enough of her games and tells her to give him his top back. But I love how Kat winds up him up even more, questioning whether she should take her own clothes off or strip Phil of his clothes. As Phil walks up to her she warns him not to come any closer as she will scream, but Phil doesn't believe as the closer he gets, she warns him further and further. Suddenly she lets out this blood curling scream for the whole Square to hear. The only thing is, as she screams, Denise can be seen walking down the street with young Raymond - has she seen everything? Something tells me that she is going to completely get the wrong end of the stick. She'll question as to why Kat was screaming as she won't believe Phil's side of the story and stop him from seeing Raymond.

At the Atkins household, Shirley is watching as Gray finishes a phone call with Karen. He reveals to her that Karen wants to meet up with him in the park. Shirley believes it's a good thing and that he should, it's been quite a while since he's seen his children. She persuades him that the children should be back living with him, but Gray seems to think that they're better off with the Grandparents. It's then Shirley tells him of her experience being a Mother, she still believes that she hasn't been the best parent, even though she thought she was doing the best for her children. But she does give Gray some really good advice, the longer he leaves it the harder it'll get.

Back out on the Square, Stuart approaches Keegan on his sandwich stall and tries to apologise. He describes that he and Rainie are like kids in a sweet shop once they get an idea in their head. Stuart acknowledges that Keegan has had it tough the past few months regarding the death of his sister, Chantelle and him trying to make a name of himself. It looks like that they both have a mutual understanding with each other and Keegan admits that it just feels weird for him knowing that - to put it politely - a part of Stuart is going to be inside his wife. Suddenly Tiffany approaches them and I can totally understand what she's saying her husband. She tells Keegan that the way he is speaking about her is awful, it's her body and she can do what she likes - why is it that he's making the decisions? And she is telling the truth, Tiffany hasn't even given them an answer yet, it's a though Keegan is making the decision for her, when it actual fact, it's completely up to her at the end of the day. Keegan apologises to his wife and she tells him that she actually does in fact like Stuart and Rainie and part of her does want them to be happy and have a family. She tells her husband that £10,000 could change their lives! She pleads to him to just sit down and talk/think it through, Keegan once again takes another big sigh and promises he'll think it through, for his wife's sake, he says that he'll try and support her and stand beside her, but at the end of the day she will be the one that's giving birth ... I don't understand why that's such a big deal, babies are born every day! Women give birth every day! The human body is an incredible thing and what a woman's body goes though is astonishing, being able to carry a tiny human for 9 months and then give birth is a wonderous thing. There shouldn't be anything fearful about it ... BUT ... (And my mind has gone a completely 1-80 here!) - What if something tragic happens during the birth and Tiffany dies in childbirth? What if there are complications with the pregnancy?! As much as this story could be beautiful, I do (Now) have a feeling that something tragic could happen.

Returning to Denise at home, she appears to be on the phone to someone, a specialist I'm assuming? It looks like she's trying to get help of trying to build a bond with her young son. She's trying to get through to them and trying to explain that she's his birth Mother and the poor boy has no idea who she is. It looks like she's pleading for someone to help her whilst she's trying explain the situation. I do feel for Denise, she's trying her absolute best to support and be there for her son, but of course he's been through something traumatic and everything he once knew has all gone. It's hard for a little boy his age to understand completely what's going on or what's happening. I'm hoping in time, he'll come to open up to Denise and eventually they'll be able to build a bond with each other.

At home, Tiffany looks as if she's watching birthing videos online - which is probably not the best idea. Labour and giving birth is a different experience for every woman. Some have really easy births, some have it a lot harder - it simply depends on the baby. But of course watching videos like that are going to terrify her and perhaps scare her into going through with it. Outside on the Square, Mitch finds his son in a world of his own. In not so many words, Keegan tells his father that he and Tiffany are having a disagreement - I kind of liked the way they were describing things by magic and pulling rabbits out of a hat - it was quite a clever take on things. Mitch sits along side his son and gives him some really good fatherly advice, he asks Keegan whether he has heard of the phrase "Happy wife, happy life!" - to which Keegan shakes his head. Now I think sometimes that phrase can be a a bit shady, but Mitch describes in such a lovely way, mentioning his Grandparents having a happy marriage which lasted over 50 years. He says that if your wife is happy, it should make you happy and as he says all this to son, it look as if Keegan completely understands what he has to do.

Back in the park, Whitney approaches the Atkins children, Mack and Mia as they play football. As they play they ask whether their father will be joining them. Whitney informs the children that unfortunately he has to work, this disappoints the kids as they tells Whitney that he hasn't played with them since their Mum passed away. He spends all his time with Shirley now and not them, Whitney is surprised to hear this and informs the young girl and boy that their father loves them dearly and would do anything for them. It's then as they continue to play, Whitney takes out her phone - is she going to convince Gray to make some time with his kids? Meanwhile at home, Gray and Shirley look as if they're doing work, Gray is on his laptop and Shirley is looking at paper work while Tina is sat in the living room behind them, (I loved Tina in this scene, I loved her clumsiness) She's complimenting the house that Shirley has found herself in. I loved how she asked whether the cushion on the sofa was filled with feathers, Shirley's response was brilliant - I'll fill you with feathers if you don't be quiet, and then of course when Tina switches the television it blares through-out the whole household. Tina then asks whether it's possible to stay there for a while as the place she's living at is just constantly full of arguments. Shirley informs her sister to grab her coat as she's going to walk her back to her place, as they leave Gray's phone pings and as he looks over he can see that he's received a message from Whitney telling him that his children want to see him, along with a picture of his children.

At home, Denise appears to be juggling a few things, trying to sort out little Raymond's tea whilst trying to sort out appointments with the salon on the phone, so much so that she burns her finger on the burning hot oven tray. Suddenly the doorbell rings, Denise is surprised to see Jack standing there. She hangs up her phone call and invites him in. It's then that Jack holds out to her an envelope full of money, he admits he wants to help contribute with the expense of Denise seeing a specialist. Denise, at first, is reluctant to take it from him as she explains that it's not his problem and she can't take money from him. But Jack admits that he still cares about her and begs her to take the money, as it'll mean she wont have to bother Phil and also it would be a friend helping out another friend. Denise smiles and thanks her ex-boyfriend for his kindness and accepts the money. As she offers him a cup of coffee, they both smile - do you think her and Denise will rekindle their romance? Will Jack be able to stand by Denise and support her in bringing up Raymond? I'd like to see them get back together, it's clear they still care for one another.

Meanwhile, at the Slater household, Kat returns to find the household empty but is surprised to hear Phil's voice coming from the living room. She is stunned to see him sat in a chair and asks him how he entered their property, to which he reveals that the door was left open. She threatens to call the police if he doesn't leave the house but Phil is quick to respond. He tells her that he's come for his shirt and Kat questions him why he wants it back so desperately, it's then he admits that the top has sentimental value and it was going to be a gift for young Dennis for his 18th birthday. Kat is quick to apologise and admits she only took/wore it to get his attention and assures him that she was going to give it back. Kat then proposes that she'll only give him the top back if he goes and checks out the job she mentioned to him a while back, Phil can't believe what he's hearing. But Kat tells him that if he was to go with her, he'd see she wasn't as stupid as he thought. Something tells me that Phil will only go through with this dodgy robbery job just so he can get the shirt back? What do you guys think?

Returning to Jack and Denise, Denise informs him that trying to sort things out over the phone she's facing a battle of questions that she doesn't know how to answer, because unfortunately she hasn't got the answers to give them. How is she supposed to know if Raymond knows he's adopted, when he won't even speak. Jack throws in suggestions maybe asking a family friend or another family member or someone she might be able to contact, and it's then he recalls that Raymond's adoptive father was a vicar to which Denise reacts positively and recalls which church he was registered at. Okay - something is giving me a very bad feeling - I'm sure you guys remember that Denise's ex-husband Lucas was a pastor of some kind, or was a holy man and had something to do with the church - what if Denise goes to this church and finds that Lucas is now out of prison and back at the church. We know Lucas is returning to the Square, I feel this may just be the start of his return, what do you guys think? Personally, I am SO excited for Lucas and Chelsea to be returning and I hope their return to the Square will be a permanent one. But it feels that this build up into helping Raymond will be the most brilliant way in bringing them back into Denise's life, of course it may be unfortunate for her, but it'll be SO interesting. How is Chelsea going to react when she finds out she has a little brother and that her Mum slept with Phil Mitchell?! It's going to be brilliant I'm sure!

Back out on the Square, Phil bumps into Isaac and asks him why he hasn't updated him on Raymond in recent weeks. Isaac admits that Denise knows so unfortunately he can't continue giving him information, to which Phil tells him to give him his money back. But Isaac reveals he spent the money on treating Raymond to pizza and a toy, to which Phil can't really react to. He knows that if the money has been spent on his son, he can't really be mad. Isaac tells him that if he's so desperate for information on his son then he can speak to Denise, there should be no harm considering he is his father.

Returning to Tiffany and Keegan, she reveals to her husband that she's watched a video online of someone giving birth, but she couldn't finish it. But then she admits that she forced herself to watch the video till the end and she admits to her husband that she found it beautiful. She tries to persuade her husband that they can go through with this, they can treat it like their doing a job and/or a favour to someone, Rainie and Stuart will have the baby they've always longed for and Tiffany and Keegan will be able to use the money to evolve Keegan's business, they'll be able to get all the equipment and supplies they need to really make his business take off. But Keegan, once again, is so mopey thinking that people like him don't deserve to be successful and have dreams, but Tiffany then tells him that his sister wouldn't want him thinking that way and they would both want him to achieve his dream and be a big success.

Back at the Atkins household, Gray is finally reuniting with his children as they show him their drawings they've done of their Mum. Gray is incredibly touched and praises his children for drawing such gorgeous pictures. He suggests to them that they do some more drawing and eagers them to get their drawing supplies so they can do some together. As the children leave to grab their things, Gray thanks Whitney in bringing the children back to him and helping and it's then she tells him that if he ever needs any more help or if he needs her to look after the children until he feels ready to have them back permanently, she's willing to help whenever she can. Gray smiles and thanks her, to which Whitney smiles back.

Above the undertakers, Rainie is fast asleep on the sofa, but Stuart wakes abruptly as he announces that they have visitors, slowly Tiffany and Keegan appear from the staircase. This scene well and truly touched me, I began to well up! Tiffany begins to apologise for what happened earlier in the day, but then she softly reveals to the couple that after a long discussion with Keegan and thinking long and hard about it, they want take them up on their offer and will happily help them have a baby. Everyone is silent as they take in the news, both Rainie and Stuart tear up and Stuart asks whether they're being serious, and Tiffany confirms that she will carry their baby for them. Rainie is tearful as she thanks the red-head. Stuart excitedly states that between the four of them they will make a beautiful baby and he rushes to embrace his wife. Tiffany excitedly joins them and everyone is incredibly happy and excited. But as the three of them embrace in a huge hug, Keegan is left standing and watching, he looks towards the camera and appears less excited than anyone else.

Urgh ... Why can't Keegan see that they're doing something wonderful for the couple?! Of course he's bound to have concerns, is he jealous maybe? Or does he simply not want his wife to do this? I don't know, I think, personally, Keegan needs to realise that this is adult stuff, he's not a kid anymore. He can't mope around because he hasn't got his way, he needs to put on a smile and remain positive. Will Keegan eventually come round to the idea? Could this maybe even break Keegan and Tiffany? I mean this is EastEnders, as much as I want and hope that Stuart and Rainie get the baby they've always longed for, I fear that maybe there could be tragedy along the way. Could Tiffany lose the baby? Will she die in childbirth? Who knows? But this is another story I think is really going to touch people and will end up being gripping, it'll either have a wonderful or devastating ending. What do you guys think?

I hope you've enjoyed reading this blog, I have really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you all enjoy your day and I will be back tomorrow with another blog. Thank you again everyone for taking your time read, I really do appreciate it, it means the world. Every comment, every message, every like - I do notice it and I want you guys to know that it means the world to me that you enjoy this blog as much as I enjoy writing it. Enjoy the rest of your day folks and I'll be back very soon. Love you all xXx

#eastenders #tiffanybutcher #keeganbaker #stuarthighway #rainiecross #philmitchell #katslater #denisefox #jackbranning #isaac baptiste #grayatkins #shirleycarter #tinacarter #whitneydean #mitchbaker #rainie highway

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